Stuff and Nonsense
by GypsyQueen
Summary: The AI team is trying to boost clientele and, boost eachother's spirits, but what happens when a spirit (of sorts) comes to visit? Part of a series or a read-alone, if you like.
1. Stuff and Nonsense

I don't own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Angel the Series. I did own them for about half a second and then I lost them in a game of craps. I was also the heir to the Spanish throne, but they said my Castilian was horrendous and I had to give it up. I don't own the characters in this story, but I sure do play with them enough. Joss is the master of the Buffyverse and I just happen to be sucked into the twisting world of myth and fantasy, just like the rest of you.   
  
*clears throat* I want to apologize to those of you who were annoyed with my little mind trips in 'Friends of NIMH' and I would like to thank those of you who were nice enough to write reviews, for it. I feel honored to alleviate your boredom, for just a little while. Well, as usual, we need to get...   
  
On with the show.  
  
::Stuff and Nonsense::  
  
It had been a week and a half since the last client paid their bill and walked away with a smile on his (or was it a her) face. Well, at least, on his/her head. It had been a Fredlierning demon, which technically didn't have a face, or a gender. It had no eyes or nose; Just a mouth and three ears. That had been a shocker, for most of the employees at Angel Investigations. Everyone except Lorne and Spike, that is. Lorne had sighed, shook his head, and went in search of a drink. Spike had just smiled and shrugged, as he accepted the job of exterminating a small, nasty race of arachnid-type demons, which had infested the Fredlierning's home. What had surprised Spike was the size of his client's home and the size of the not so small, but really nasty arachnid-type demons, he had promised to kill. He came home covered in sticky film and smiling ear to ear. He had made a mess, yes, but he *had* won the war.  
  
Now, everything had returned back to normal. At least, as normal as things could return to, considering. Spike was still terrorizing the cat, Lorne was still putting down snifter after snifter of any drink he could get his hands on, Angel was trying to help Cordelia make a website, while Fred, Wesley, and Gunn stood over to the side and laughed at them.  
  
"Cordy, I don't think having us put out a pop-up, is the way to go about getting business." Angel said in his 'I'm so logical' sounding voice. "First off, people hate them. Why else would they have those pop-up blockers that don't work, all over the place? Secondly, we are only in L.A. Pop-ups go all over the Internet, which means they reach around the world. We don't need that type of advertisement."  
  
"Geez, Angel. It was just a suggestion. A simple, 'no' would have sufficed." Cordelia huffed, at her boss. Angel was being extra pissy today. He hadn't agreed with one of her ideas, and, for some inexplicable reason, he had felt a need to lecture on the reasons he didn't agree with her. "How about billboards? We could just forget about the Internet, seeing as how you are so computer retarded."  
  
"I'm not retarded." Angel glared at the woman, as she clicked a few button and turned off the monitor. It whirred and hissed, as it shut off. "Are you sure you did that right?"  
  
Cordelia turned her swivel chair so that she was looking up into Angel's face. "You couldn't tell whether I did it right or not?" Cordelia smiled and nodded, as Angel shook his head. "See? This goes way beyond computer illiterate. You are computer retarded." She nodded matter-of-factly and pushed herself up out of her chair. She shoved past Angel and walked around the desk and toward the front door. "You guys try to get through to him." She muttered to the three, who had been watching from the lounge. "I'm through dealing with him, today." Cordelia opened up the closet and pulled out her coat. She slipped it on and opened the front door, before looking back at her colleagues. "I'm going home and I'm going to soak in a tub and go to sleep. You coming over tonight, Fred, or are you sticking around here?"  
  
Fred shrugged. "I may just sleep over here, since there doesn't seem to be any baddies about." She grinned over at Angel, who was staring at the blank computer screen, absently. "If I change my mind, I'm sure I can coax a ride out of someone."  
  
"I can take you, princess." Spike yawned, as he stumbled down the last few stairs. He straightened his shoulders and sighed. "As long as you don't plan on going in the next few minutes. My eyes are still sleep-filled."  
  
Cordelia nodded. "Okay, then, that is settled." She grunted, as she passed another look at her boss. "Don't just poke the keyboard, Angel. Let someone show you how to turn it on, first." Angel was ignoring her plea, so she just shrugged. "Whatever. You're going to have to pay for it, anyway. See you guys tomorrow." With that she headed out the door and shut it behind her.  
  
Spike looked over at his sire and grinned. "How long have they been on that thing?"  
  
Gunn laughed, quietly. "Long enough for Cordelia to decided to take an early night and Angel to threaten to throw the computer out."  
  
Wesley nodded. "I think his exact words were 'out the window', actually."  
  
Spike nodded. "Which means they have been on it too long." Spike sighed and trekked over toward his, severely confused, sire. "Angelus, give it a break."  
  
Angel poked another button and growled.   
  
"Angelus, you are doing it wrong." Spike tried to push the 'Master' button, but Angel just swatted his hand away. Spike bit his bottom lip and nodded. "Uh-huh..." Spike grabbed the back of Angel's chair and swiveled it around, as fast as he could. Angel stared up at him speechless, which only made him grin. "You want some help?"  
  
Angel's brows furrowed and he huffed. Finally, he nodded and turned his chair back toward the evil device that was causing him so much frustration. "It won't do what I tell it to do." He growled, again.  
  
Spike sighed and shook his head. "It will." Spike insisted. "You just have to give it the right commands." Spike leaned over Angel's shoulder and pushed the 'Power' button. The machine whirred and the screen came to life, in a few short seconds. "See?"  
  
"No." Angel stated, firmly. "I don't see. I had to have pushed every button on the stupid thing."  
  
"The stupid thing?" Spike chuckled. "What are you, four?" Spike leaned back over Angel and typed in a username and password. "Just admit that this is something that ou are bad at and be done with it. It's not like you actually *have* to learn how to use the 'stupid thing'."  
  
The Windows screen popped up and Angel sighed. "How did you do that?"  
  
Spike turned away from his sire and headed towards the round couch, where Fred, Wesley, and Gunn were lounging. "Drop it, Angel." He said, as he plopped down in between Fred and Wesley. He leaned over so that his head was lying on Fred's shoulder and sighed, happily. "You'll only work yourself into a snit-fit and I'll have to yank you out of it."  
  
Wesley arched a brow at Spike and then threw a glance over at Gunn. Gunn looked up, caught Wesley's look, and nodded. They couldn't get over how casual Spike was with Fred and Cordelia. He could just about do or say anything and the two women would just grin or laugh.   
  
Of course, the two men had no idea that Cordelia and Fred had discussed the same thing and had come to the conclusion that being friends with Spike was like having a gay guy friend. The first and most important reason being, they knew that there was no chance that they would ever date him, or that he would ever even consider dating them. They also believed he was trustworthy, gave good advice on how to deal with things, and he had good fashion sense, when it came to women's apparel. They had decided that that had to be the good thing about him living with Drusilla for so long. He had picked out all of her clothing and make-up. As he had told them once, he couldn't very well let her pick those things out for herself, being that she was so 'effin' crazy.  
  
"Spike, show me how to get on the Internet." Angel, all but, commanded.  
  
Spike sat up straight and quirked his scarred eyebrow. "Pardon?"  
  
"I said, show me how to get on the Internet." Angel repeated.  
  
Spike nodded and glared at the back of his sire's head. "Oh, I heard you the first time, then." Spike cocked his head to the side and waited for Angel to turn toward him.   
  
Angel couldn't understand what was taking Spike so long to come over and help him. It wasn't like he was actually doing something else, at the moment. "Spike..."  
  
"You call me boy and I pull your bloody bullocks off."  
  
Angel turned in his seat and flashed Spike a surprised look. "What?"  
  
"Just fair warning." Spike said with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Now, what is it that you would like, Angel?"  
  
Angel thought about it for a moment and realized his error. He had been a little too commanding and Spike didn't appreciate it. 'Almost as difficult as a woman.' He thought, amusedly. He gave Spike a smirk, which faded instantly. Spike was glaring, now. He hadn't of thought out loud, had he? He didn't think he had. 'Shit.' He thought.  
  
Spike nodded. Angel was definitely bad mouthing him, in his head. He could tell by the way he looked so guilty. Spike shook his head and stood up. "Use the mouse and click on the big blue 'E'. You can take it from there. The opening page is a search engine. Type in what you want to look up and go."  
  
Angel did as he was told and nodded. A little gray box popped up on the screen and Angel groaned and exited it, thinking it was a pop-up. The computer screen suddenly turned blue and Angel practically howled, in dismay.   
  
Spike jogged over to his sire's side and laughed. "What did you do, you stupid pouf?"  
  
Angel didn't even notice the 'term of endearment', as he was to disgruntled over the computer error. "What does this 'system error 217' mean?"   
  
Spike's lip curled and he sighed. "I dunno'." He muttered, as he reached toward the keyboard. He clicked a few buttons and the machine whirred. A box popped up and he grabbed the mouse and clicked on the 'Explorer(not responding)' and hit the 'end task' button.   
  
Angel squeaked, as he watched the computer shut down. "Do we have to do that, all over again?"  
  
"Nope." Spike stated. "You aren't touching the bleedin' machine, anymore. Get up."  
  
Angel started to snarl, but his childe was insistent. Before he knew what was happening, Spike had shoved his chair over and replaced the space with another chair. It was wood and had no wheels. Spike sat in it and started to boot the computer back up.  
  
Spike looked over and caught the outraged look on Angel's face. "Fuss all you want. I'm just saving you a whipping from lil' Miss Legs, tomorrow morning. She will kick your butt six ways from Sunday, if she finds out you crashed up her system."   
  
"And what about you?" Angel crossed his arms across his chest and leaned back in his chair.  
  
Spike shrugged. "I'm not *going* to crash the system." Spike scratched the back of his scalp and waited for the reboot to finish up. "What is it you are wanting to look up, Angel?" Angel muttered under his breath, making Spike strain to hear. "What's that, Angelus?"  
  
"A book." Angel sighed.  
  
Spike swung around in his seat and grunted. "We are going through all this trouble for a book?" Spike sighed, when his sire smirked and shrugged. "What is it? A spell book?" Spike slumped in his chair and stretched his neck from left to right. "Is it that concordance Wes has been whining about, for the last forever?"  
  
Angel shook his head and smirked. "It's not that type of book."  
  
Spike sat forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. He looked down at the keyboard and sighed. "And what type of book is it, then?"  
  
Angel nodded at the computer. "The 'login' screen is back."   
  
Spike looked up at the screen and shook his head. "It's a logon screen, Angel. Now, what type of book are we looking for?"  
  
"Alice in Wonderland." Angel stated.   
  
Spike scoffed and tried to hold back a laugh. "Really?" He typed in his username and the password, again, and waited. "Why are we doing that, now?"  
  
"It's a gift, for someone." Angel muttered. He felt foolish. Technically, he was going on the computer to look for a children's book, when he should be doing something that was of soul redeeming worth. Sad thing was, there had been no cries for help, lately and it wasn't like he had a 'bat signal' or anything. He had a seer. He had a seer that hadn't been 'seeing', for a while. He also had an empath, who was doing nothing but drink.  
  
Spike turned to look at his sire and grinned. "Whose birthday is it?" He asked, half-jokingly.  
  
Angel looked up at Spike and smirked. "Connor's."   
  
Spike's face fell. "Really? I didn't know, or I would have gotten him something."  
  
Angel shrugged. "It's a few weeks away. You still have time."   
  
Spike nodded. "Why 'Alice in Wonderland'?"  
  
Angel shrugged, again. "It's a good book and Connor hasn't read it. He doesn't really read much. I just thought I'd start him on something enjoyable."  
  
Spike logged on to the Internet and went straight to a local bookstore's site. "Do you think I could get him 'Alice's Adventures in Wonderland', or would it be impersonal since your already getting the Disney version?"  
  
"The Disney version?" Angel asked.  
  
"Yeah." Spike laughed. "Alice in Wonderland was the name Disney gave to 'Alice's Adventures in Wonderland', because they thought it sounded more tidy, or something. It was a real shame too; cause Lewis Carroll was a real genius. I actually saw him once before he died."   
  
"Did you?" Angel asked, with interest. "I had no idea."  
  
"Well, he was an old man and he was buying a pair of knickers, but I saw him, nonetheless." Spike said as he clicked on a book. "What's your credit card number? I found you a deal."  
  
"I'll type it in." Angel leaned to do so and Spike shoved him away.  
  
"You'll do nothing of the sort." His childe informed him. "You'll just lock it up, again."  
  
"I won't lock..."  
  
Angel was interrupted by the front door slamming. The AI team turned to see who their new arrival was and they were surprised to see Connor red faced, and huffing and puffing, standing in the doorway. "There may be a problem." He stated, as he headed over to the weapons cabinet.  
  
Spike pushed himself up, out of his seat, and Angel followed. They made their way toward the boy. Gunn had automatically put a hand on Fred's knee, in a comforting manner, when the boy gave his foreboding message. Wesley had just leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms across his chest, waiting for the rest of the story.   
  
Spike saw how Connor was trembling and his breath was hitching. Spike was the first to ask what was on everybody's mind. "What the bloody hell happened to your shoes?" Well, he was the first to ask what was on his mind.  
  
Angel shook his head and sighed. "What he means is, 'are you alright?"  
  
Spike scowled at his sire. "I know what I bloody well meant." He insisted. "I wanna' know what happened to the boy's shoes. They are *gone*, Angelus."  
  
"Actually..." Connor stopped shuffling through the daggers and swords, so that he could rub the back of his neck. He gave his dad a wry grin and shrugged. "They were slowing me down, so I slipped them off. They are probably still a couple of blocks down the road."  
  
"If you are lucky." Spike muttered. He just couldn't believe that Connor would be so careless with his shoes. "What were you running from?"  
  
"I wasn't running *from* anything. I had to run *to* home." Connor picked up a knife and smirked. "I had to get something to kill it with. Hand to hand combat would have been unfair. It had, at least, six arms." Connor started back toward the door at a brisk walk. Le looked over at Wesley and Gunn and grinned. "So, are you guys coming or not?" He asked, with a laugh, before slipping back out into the darkness.  
  
Gunn jumped up from his seat and Wesley followed suit. They jogged to the weapons cabinet and muttered something about a good fight and how they were going to help Connor.  
  
Spike scoffed at the scene and threw his sire a look. "He didn't invite us to fight." He pouted.   
  
Angel shrugged. "Maybe he thinks we would be overkill."  
  
Spike scowled and shook his head. "In this business there is no such thing as overkill. There *is*, however, a 'not enough kill', and I would hate for this to be one of those times."  
  
Fred slumped back on the couch and sighed, gustily. "They didn't invite me either." She said with a smile. "I'm kinda' glad, though, cause six armed demons aren't really my niche."  
  
Lorne chuckled, as he glided down the stairway. "But you sure have a way with those green faced, red horned demons, darlin'." He stopped and threw a large smile over at the two vampires, who were arguing, off to the side. "Hello, all. Is it too late to say good morning?"  
  
Spike grinned. "I'd say too early, but I suppose it depends on how you look at things."  
  
"With a smile on my face and a song in my heart, puddin'." Lorne sighed, happily, and walked around the couch, taking a seat next to Fred.  
  
Spike quirked a brow at the demon and queried. "How much *did* you drink, today?"  
  
Lorne shrugged. "I don't know? Why does it really show?"  
  
"The question is, does it really matter?" A lilting voice asked from the open doorway. "It's not like drinking is a sin."   
  
Angel gasped, when he looked up and saw who was standing in his doorway.  
  
Spike looked over at his sire and caught how much paler he had become. "Angel, is everything alright?" He asked, quietly.  
  
"I'm right aren't I, Angel?" The man smiled, charmingly. "Com' on. Us Irishmen gotta' stick together."  
  
Angel gulped, silently, and shook his head. "Doyle? How?"  
  
Doyle nodded, slowly, and sighed. "Now, that question may be a little harder to answer."  
  
TBC  
  
-Okay, before I even go into this story, any further, I must say that I absolutely loved Glenn Quinn in everything he ever did. He was a wonderful actor, who just happened to have a debilitating vice that he couldn't let go of. *clears throat* Okay, so this is a new story and I need you guys to review so that you can either encourage my genius or discourage my insanity. It's up to you guys. Love you guys bunches.-  
  
-This story is called Stuff and Nonsense, which is a phrase that Alice... Remember Alice? (Sorry, that was just a little Arlo Guthrie humor.)... *clears throat* it's a phrase that Alice from Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, said during the book. I would have called this Through the Rabbit Hole, but that is a little too clichéd.- 


	2. I'm Still Standing

I don't own BTVS or AtS. I do, however, know the episode 'Once More With Feeling' word for word, so nyuh! *sticks out tongue* I don't own the characters in this story, but I may be striking up a deal soon , where I can rent-to-own them. *nods matter-of-factly* Now, that we have that out of the way, Joss is a genius and I am dunce, in comparison. How's this for something weird, but interesting? I've started scrap booking and I think I may make a BTVS page. Fun, fun, fun! Anyway, this is the portion where I sigh, tip my hat, and say...  
  
On with the show.  
  
::Stuff and Nonsense- I'm Still Standing::   
  
Spike had watched the two men stare at each other, for a while, and then realized that they were most likely going to embrace. He turned his head and looked at Lorne, who was watching the scene with obvious interest. He looked over at Fred and was surprised to find the girl blushing uncontrollably. 'Really, now?' He looked back at the man in the doorway, who stood like a statue, waiting for Angel to make a move.  
  
Angel didn't move, but he did speak. "Doyle? What are you doing here?"  
  
Doyle shook his head and sighed. "Do ya' think we can start on some easier questions? I really would rather have a pint in me, before we get to some of the more difficult parts of things."   
  
Spike sniffed the air and hummed. "You can come in, you know."  
  
"I know." Doyle agreed. "Just like I told tall, dark, and gloomy here, a few years back, I may be a demon, but I'm not a vampire." Doyle took a step in through the doorway and shut the door behind him. "So..."  
  
Angel took a few steps toward the man and looked him up and down. "Something's not right."   
  
Doyle grinned and shrugged. "I'm not wearing a shirt that's fit for a luau. Could that be it?"  
  
Angel shook his head. "You don't smell right."  
  
"I don't smell like beer and pretzels? Gimme half a mo' and I can fix that." Doyle chuckled, when he caught the small smile that Angel was developing. He leaned in and whispered. "I really haven't been back long enough, for you to be sniffing me. It still squicks me, ya' know?"  
  
Angel nodded and sighed. He grabbed Doyle into a strong hug, causing the man to yelp. "We've missed you."  
  
Doyle nodded and gasped. "Hey, Angel, just cause I'm half demon, doesn't mean I don't need to breathe." Angel let Doyle go and smacked his shoulder, with a cupped palm. Doyle rubbed the area and winced. "Don't bruise the body! I gotta return it, when I'm done, here."  
  
Angel decided to ignore that comment and turned toward his childe. "Spike, this is Doyle."  
  
Spike quirked a brow and snorted. "He an ex, or something?"  
  
"Yup. An ex-what, is the question." Doyle chuckled, while Angel muttered something Gaelic, under his breath. Doyle sighed. "You never were good at explaining things." Doyle took a step toward Spike and extended his hand. "I'm Doyle. I used to work for Angel, before I was killed."  
  
Spike took the proffered hand and grinned, sardonically. "That's funny. I only started working for Angel, after I was killed."  
  
Doyle pulled back his hand and smiled, tightly. "William the Bloody?"  
  
Spike made a motion, as if he were tipping an invisible hat, and grinned. "The very same."   
  
"Aye. Yes..." Doyle chewed the inside of his cheek and nodded. "I've heard of you, from the others."  
  
"Who're the others?" Spike asked, arching a brow.   
  
  
  
"You'll think I'm crazed, if I just start telling you, now. Give it time." Doyle looked past Spike and caught a glimpse of Lorne and Fred. He grinned at them, both. "Hello." He stated, cheerfully.  
  
Fred grinned and waved, by holding up her hand and letting her fingers fall.   
  
This made Doyle grin and wave back. "And who are you, my bonnie lass?"  
  
Spike rolled his eyes and glared over at Angel. "Don't tell me he really talks like this, all of the time!"  
  
Angel grinned and shook his head. "The accent is good for the ladies. Don't tell me that after living in America for so long, you haven't developed an American accent."  
  
"Huh!" Spike scoffed. He crossed his arms across his chest and muttered. "Like you know anything about picking up women."  
  
Doyle glanced at the two vampires, who were arguing about everything and nothing. He threw a look back at Fred and inquired. "Do they do this often?"  
  
Fred nodded. "They like to make each other mad, for some reason."  
  
Doyle nodded, acceptingly, and smiled over at Lorne. "Hello, friend, why so green?"  
  
Lorne shrugged. "Bad genes, but I've learned to deal."  
  
"Know what you mean." Doyle glanced at Lorne's drink and sighed. "What cha' got there?"  
  
Lorne raised his glass to his nose and sniffed the contents. "Bourbon."  
  
Doyle shivered. "I haven't drank *anything* for a good three years... or is it three and a half? It's been too long, that's for sure!"  
  
Lorne grinned. "Would you like a drink? I have more."  
  
Doyle nodded. "Just water, thanks. All joking aside, I need to keep my wits about me."   
  
Lorne smiled and nodded. "I'll go get you some water." Lorne turned and headed for the kitchen.  
  
Doyle looked over at Fred, appraisingly. "So, where did you come from. You can't tell me that you lived in L.A. and I never caught a sight of you, when I was here, before."  
  
Fred shook her head. "I'm from Texas, but I ended up being sucked through a portal into a place called Pylea. Lorne's from there."  
  
"But you can't hold that against me, because I am nothing like my kin." Lorne sauntered back into the room carrying a glass of ice water. Hiss own glass had been topped off. He handed the water to Doyle and clinked their glasses together. "Welcome back."  
  
Doyle lifted his glass and nodded. "Thank you." He downed it, as fast as he could and shuddered when he was finished. "That was horrible." He choked.  
  
Lorne scowled. "I'm sorry. It was from the tap."  
  
Doyle shook his head. "It's not that. I never have been one for water."  
  
Fred giggled and watched, as the new man sputtered. "So, you were dead." She stated, with obvious interest.   
  
Doyle chuckled. "Are you always so matter-of-fact? I'm not criticizing. It's just that most ladies would be bothered about that."  
  
Fred shrugged. "You know, people come back from the dead a lot, around here."  
  
Doyle nodded. "They *do* do that." He sighed and stretched his arms above his head. "It always seems to be a little short of a miracle, though. There are always consequences, when you are messing with the natural order of things." Doyle dropped his arms to his sides and sparred a quick glance over at Spike and Angel, who were still snapping at each other.  
  
Fred nodded. "What is the consequence of you coming back?"  
  
"I'm of no consequence." The man said with a small, almost sad, smile. "I'm just here to lend a hand. It's a kind of... favor."   
  
"We won't be needing any favors, ta." Spike snarled at the Irishman. He was still mad at Angel. 'The stupid pouf.' He thought with a sneer. "What is it with you having your ex-companions coming back from the dead!?"  
  
Angel quirked a brow. 'What was that, again?' He thought to himself. "I don't..."  
  
Spike shook his head. "Rhetorical question, Angelus." Spike shot Doyle a look. "Do you remember him being this stupid, when he was your boss?"  
  
Doyle shrugged. "Stupid? No. Slow? Sometimes." He took another sip of his water and watched Spike nod, slowly. The vampire was turning back to his usual shade of pale. "Don't you even wonder what sort of hell is about to be thrown at you?"  
  
Spike shook his head. "I like surprises."  
  
  
  
"Well, if I remember correctly, Angel does not like surprises. They throw off his delicate balance." Doyle put his drink down on a coffee table, nearby, and walked toward the front desk. "What sort of case are you working on, Angel?" He stopped and looked over the counter, looking for something.  
  
Angel made his way toward the man and sighed. "There is no case. There hasn't been a case since two weeks ago."  
  
"Why is that?" Doyle asked, giving the vampire a smirk.  
  
Spike growled under his breath. "Well, I suppose you would know better than us, you silly Mick!" Spike stomped over to the couch and plopped down, next to Fred. "Didn't those sparkly, shan-shu promising, wankers send you or not? They must have told you why all this is happening! Why else would dead people be plaguing us?"  
  
Doyle smiled and shrugged. "Think of it in the terms that..." Doyle sighed and thought for a moment. "Angel Investigations is sick and you are being given medicine to remedy your illness. Now, the doctors were looking doubtful, but they hope the medicine is going to take."  
  
"They hope? Doesn't sound very promising." Spike muttered and he crossed his ankle over his knee. He leaned back into his seat and narrowed his gaze at the half-demon.  
  
Doyle nodded. "That's because there is no promise. Only hope."  
  
Spike grunted. "What's is there to hope for?"   
  
Doyle smiled. "Well, I hope you start liking me soon, because I may end up being here for a little while."  
  
Spike looked at the Irishman, in surprise. "Who said I didn't like you. I don't even know you."  
  
Lorne laughed. "You're emitting, dear."  
  
"Eww..." Spike scrunched up his nose. "Am I?"  
  
Doyle chuckled and threw a glance over at Angel. "You made him?"  
  
"No." Angel smirked. "But I probably would have, if Dru hadn't."   
  
Doyle frowned, slightly, and scratched the back of his head. "Hmm..."  
  
Spike looked at the Irishman and grunted. "What?"  
  
Doyle shrugged. "I just had a vision." He sighed. "I haven't had a vision in so long, I forgot what they were like."  
  
Angel quirked a brow. "Nothing like that. You used to be knocked off your feet, because of how intense your visions were."  
  
Doyle nodded and frowned. "Yeah, that's true. Well, I guess I better tell one of you about it."  
  
Angel smiled. "Finally, we have some insight with The Powers, again."  
  
Lorne sniffed and took a sip of his drink. "I'm doing the best I can, Angel cakes."  
  
"Angel Cakes?" Doyle grinned. "All right, I'm going to be saving that laugh for a rainy day. Now, about that vision." Doyle closed his eyes and concentrated. "I see a man, being attacked by a hideous looking beast." Doyle opened his eyes. "The beast is pink and has a lot of appendages. Kind of like an octopus with hands and feet."  
  
Angel nodded and sighed. "Where is it?"  
  
Doyle closed his eyes and pictured it all again. "It's at a street called Samona and it connects to Maple."  
  
Spike and Angel exchanged looks. Spike frowned. "I don't know which street Samona is, but Maple is only a few blocks down. When is this supposed to happen?"  
  
Doyle made a face. "I think it's going to happen very soon." Doyle gasped. "Okay, there is more than one."  
  
"More than one demon?" Angel ran over toward his weapons case and threw the door open. He grabbed a sword, for himself, and pulled out an axe, for Spike. He threw the axe to Spike, who caught it deftly.  
  
Doyle shook his head. "There is only one demon, as far as I can tell. There are three men, though. The man I saw, a younger man, and then, a black man."  
  
Spike swung his axe around and smiled. "Of course, there is." Spike grinned at his sire, as he headed toward the doorway. "This is all just peachy, Peaches. You have your own little psychic to tell you about every time that Connor steps in it and I get to watch that little vein in your head... which is supposed to be inactive, by the way... pop out."   
  
  
  
Angel growled under his breath and pushed past his childe, and out the door.  
  
Spike grinned over at Lorne and shrugged. "You might want to take the car and go buy a six pack. We'll probably need it, when we get back from bailing out little brother and those other two idjits." Spike smirked at Doyle and sighed. "So, do you fight, also?"  
  
Doyle made a face and shrugged. "I don't know. Last time I took it upon myself to fight, I ended up dying."  
  
Spike nodded and pointed his axe at Doyle. "Then, you should stay here and man the fort. Maybe, keep an eye on princess, there."  
  
Doyle looked over at Fred and smiled. "How about two?"  
  
Spike frowned and nodded. "Yeah, well, don't be watching too hard, friend." He muttered, as he turned toward the door and headed after Angel.  
  
Doyle watched the vampire leave and smirked. "Well, keep your eyes peeled... friend."  
  
TBC  
  
-UGH! I had the worst case of writers block and this chapter was utter crap, but it should be getting better from here on out. Thanks for sticking around. Oh, and I'm glad to see that Doyle is pleasing the masses. He is precious, is he not? Hehe... Well, love you guys. Please review.-  
  
--The subtitle to this was I'm Still Standing, which a song by Elton John. Go Sir Elton! Whoo hoo!- 


	3. You're Going To Get What's Coming

I don't own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or angel the Series. I don't own any of the characters from the two shows. However, I am planning on buying all of them, one by one, as soon as I have collected enough paychecks... and have paid off my car. *sigh* Which will be never. Anyway, I want to point out the fact that joss Whedon is amazing and if AtS doesn't start soon I'm going to going to starve myself and mourn the loss of Spike. The only reason I haven't so far is because I have had hopes to see the new season of Angel, with him on it. October 8th baby! Whoo-hoo. Okay, so after all that babbling, I suppose I should be...   
  
On with the show.  
  
::Stuff and Nonsense- You're Going To Get What's Coming::  
  
"Okay, what's with the brooding? I thought I had you better trained." Spike sighed and swung his axe in a circle. "It's like teaching a dog not to diddle on the carpet and then, you walk in and see him take a big ol'..."  
  
"Spike!" Angel growled, as he gave his childe a long-suffering glance.  
  
"What?!" Spike was getting tired of his sire's mood swings. Of course, he had reason to brood over the return of his dead friend... around the humans, at least. They were only his pets, after all. Spike, on the other hand, was tired of being put in the same category as the humans. "You can tell me, you know."  
  
Angel knew what Spike was hinting at. He also knew that he would feel better, if he got it off his chest. "He didn't remember you. I just found that odd."  
  
Spike's face screwed up. "Was he supposed to remember me?" Spike looked over at his sire and bit his lip. "I don't remember him, if it makes it any better."  
  
"It doesn't, but thanks for trying." Angel sighed, gustily. "I figured you wouldn't remember him. You've met so many people that one person isn't going to make a difference. Just another nameless face that meant absolutely nothing to you."  
  
Spike shrugged. "Doyle." Spike shot a grin at his sire. "Face has a name, now. I guess he can't mean *absolutely* nothing to me."  
  
Angel chuckled. "Still doesn't mean much, does it?"  
  
"Not really, no." Spike answered as truthfully as he could stand to. "Shouldn't we turn at this sign, here?"  
  
Angel looked at the street sign and nodded. He turned onto the dark road and started jogging. He could practically feel Connor's presence.  
  
"So, tell me. Why haven't we been running, all this time? This isn't some tough love thing, between you and the kid, is it? Cause that's pretty rotten, Angelus, if I do say so myself."  
  
"I wish you wouldn't."  
  
"Oh!" Spike scoffed and started to run. "You're trying to punish the kid, for leaving without us, aren't you?"  
  
Angel sped up, so he was at Spike's side. "Spike, do you think I would put my own son in danger, to teach him a lesson?"  
  
"Ha!" Spike scoffed, again. "Yorkshire, 1880. Quote- If I can't teach you, maybe an angry crowd will- end quote. That was you chastising me over my foolishness."  
  
"Yeah, that was also the night you asked me if I ever got tired of fighting fights that I knew I would win."   
  
"I said 'could' win." Spike muttered. "I never had *that* much faith in you."   
  
Angel laughed. "Yes, you did. As well you should have." Angel threw his arm out, like a soccer mom catching her son, before he bashed his head into the dashboard, during a quick stop.   
  
Spike was smacked in the chest, and successfully stopped from running into a flashing sword. "Hey, you stupid lackey! Watch where you are swinging that thing."  
  
Wesley grunted and made another swing at the creature with never-ending arms. "So nice of you to join us... Spike." He grunted, as he was smacked upside the face with a pink appendage. "Well?" He shouted at the blonde vampire.  
  
"Well, what? I'm trying to figure out what 'us' you are referring to." Spike looked around and couldn't see any sign of Gunn or Connor. "Plus, I'm enjoying the show." He added, hastily. "I should have sold tickets."  
  
Wesley backed away from the monster and tripped over a small box. He turned his ankle, landed on his backside, and swore at his own bad luck. "Spike, help!" He yelled, as he looked down at his throbbing foot.  
  
Spike lunged at the monster, game face on. The monster squealed like a stuck pig and scrambled away from Spike. "What gives? Now, you want to cower?" Spike growled, from his place on the filth covered street.  
  
Angel dashed after the creature and grabbed it by the back of its spiny neck. "Where is my son?"   
  
"I'm sure I haven't seen him, vampire." The demon said, while hissing and squealing.  
  
Angel growled, as he turned the monster to face him. He gasped, as he realized that its eyes were gone. Something had gouged the eyes right out of the demon's skull. All that was left was two empty sockets, filled with dried blood and gore. "Well, you knew I was a vampire. How is you sense of smell?" Angel asked, while sliding the metal of his sword down one of the creatures wandering arms. "Cause I'm sure your sense of touch is quite all right."  
  
The monster howled, in protest. "You are the one! The righteous vampire, bent on the destruction of his own kind!"  
  
Spike cleared his throat and grinned at his sire. "I know I shouldn't butt in, but you are leaving me out of the fun, as well as, the conversation. Things get boring, when you do that."  
  
Angel nodded and smiled. He looked at the demon, thoughtfully. "I'll hold him and you poke holes in him, with your sword. Then, we'll switch."  
  
"Tag team?" Spike practically hopped, at the notion. "Well, it's been a while since we've done that, yeah? We might have to do a lot of stabbing to get the hang of it, again."   
  
The monster thrashed, about, trying to free himself from Angel's grip. "Would he be the light socket, the alcoholic, or the feline?" The monster hissed.  
  
Spike sighed and slumped. So, the fun was over, so fast? "The feline, I'm sure."   
  
Angel smiled, when the demon started telling them of the boy and how the fight had come to pass. Apparently, the monster had chosen the wrong night to feed on alley cats. It had struck a nerve in Connor and the boy had started to fight. He had assumed the monster was easy enough to kill, when he had realized its handicap. Connor had been wrong. The demon had been too strong and well attuned to his environment, for him. Connor had rushed home and started to hunt the demon. He had found him, fought, and was suddenly gone. "That's it?" Angel growled, in the demon's ear.  
  
The monster nodded his head and squealed, again.   
  
Angel nodded and threw the demon, face first, onto the ground. He aimed his sword and threw it like a javelin. It plunged into the monster's chest. The demon fell back and sputtered. It was still alive.  
  
Spike grunted and pulled up his axe. "Well, don't just let it bleed to death." He hefted his axe and brought it down in one fatal sweep, disconnecting the monster's head from its shoulders. Spike groaned and shook his head. "I hate it when the don't immediately evaporate. For one so ugly, you would think he would, at least, implode."  
  
Angel stood, silently. "What about you, Wesley?"  
  
"I, too, wish the demon had just imploded. Would have saved us a lot of clean up." Wesley muttered, sardonically.  
  
Angel rolled his eyes. He wanted to scream and yell to the heavens. Instead, he gave Wesley that 'bite me' look that Cordelia did so well. "I meant what about you... seeing Connor. What happened to him?"  
  
Wesley groaned, as he tried to stand and put some weight on his ankle. "Blast it all."  
  
"What a very British thing to say." Spike chuckled. "Why didn't you just say 'sod it' or 'bloody effin wanker'?"  
  
Wesley leaned against the outside of a dumpster and tried to flex his foot. "Because those would be very low class British things to say." He grinned up at Spike, who was now shooting darts at Wesley, with his eyes. "You asked."  
  
"Where is Connor?" Angel's growled stopped the lighthearted banter between the two British 'men'. "I want to know where my son is." Angel sighed. "I'm worried about him." He said, in a less forceful way.  
  
Wesley nodded and then, sighed. "He and Gunn ran after the other demon."  
  
"What other demon?" Spike asked, with genuine interest. "I mean, I'm up for another fight. Angel took all the fun bits, in this one."  
  
"Only because you were too slow."   
  
Angel's quiet mutter was ignored, by Spike. "What kind of demon was it?"  
  
Wesley shook his head. "It had a tail." He sighed. "It also had spines all over it. A kind of exoskeleton, I believe."  
  
Angel sniffed and groaned. "It was probably a Mirserkrean. That's things are bitches to kill."  
  
Spike chuckled. "You said bitch."  
  
Angel smirked and shot Spike a bird.   
  
Spike returned the endearment with his own, more British version. "Oh and, by the way, Mirserkreans aren't all that difficult, as long as they aren't full grown." Spike shot Wesley a look. "How big was it, Wes?"  
  
"Oh, it wasn't that big. Probably about five feet tall." Wesley thought a moment. "Maybe a little smaller."  
  
Spike stomped his foot and swore. After his immature display of discontentment, he gave Angel a pained look. "It's full grown, Angel." Spike was almost whining, but he really didn't care. After all, Mirserkreans were real bitches to kill.  
  
Angel smirked and shrugged. "Well, we've got to kill it, before it kills Connor."  
  
"And Gunn." Wesley added.  
  
Angel nodded and sighed. "Yes, Gunn too. That was implied."  
  
"Sure it was." Spike said with a laugh. "You're just upset 'cause he gets more sex than you."  
  
"If I wanted sex, I could get sex." Angel mumbled. He then, looked up at Wesley and pointed at his foot. "You going to be okay, or do you need one of us to help you?"  
  
Wesley put a little pressure on the foot and winced. "I'll walk to the street and hail a cab." He said, with a hiss.  
  
Spike shook his head. "Oh, bloody..." Spike walked over to the man and looked him up and down, before hefting him up and over his shoulder. He started a brisk walk toward the street, where he intended on dropping Wesley off.  
  
Wesley was outraged. "I can walk!" He shouted, before making a fist and hitting Spike directly in the middle of his spine.  
  
Spike growled. "Stop moving Pet, or I'll be forced to hurt you."  
  
Wesley gave his own imitation of a growl and stopped squirming. "The pride is harder to heal than the foot, Spike."  
  
Spike chuckled. "I know, but can't you just hear Angel laughing?" Spike carefully slid Wesley off of his shoulder, and onto the ground. "Now, he won't be so ill-tempered, when you tell him that you broke that vase, in his study."  
  
"What vase?" Wesley made a face and shook his head. "I didn't break any vase, Sp..." Wesley scoffed and shouted, after Spike's retreating form. "I'm not going to take the fall for you, you bloody vampire!"  
  
Spike took a moment to turn around and laugh. "I made you say 'bloody'!" Spike turned around and hurried back to Angel, who was cleaning goo off of his sword. "I dropped Wesley off at the street."  
  
Angel nodded and laughed, again. Truth be known, he hadn't stopped laughing since he saw Spike toss Wesley over his shoulder, like a sack of potatoes, and shuffle out toward the road. "He's going to get you back, you know."  
  
"He may try." Spike agreed. "He won't succeed, though." Spike made a mock sigh, as he picked up his axe and wiped it off on his black jeans. "Poor guy..."  
  
"What?" Angel asked, curiously.   
  
Spike pointed at the demon lying at his feet. "He was pregnant." Spike kicked the belly of the monster and sighed. Only four or five months, though. It has to carry for three years, to go full term."  
  
"Oh." Angel made a face and shook his head. "How did you know that?"  
  
Spike smirked. "I've always been an avid reader, Angelus. You know that."  
  
Angel nodded and grunted. "It's sad that you only use a quarter of you vocabulary." Angel sniffed the air and nodded. "Come on."  
  
Spike looked up at the sky, while he followed Angel. "The moon is full."  
  
Angel stopped and turned down a darker alley, off to the side. "Yes, it is." He agreed, quietly. "So?"  
  
"Well, Mirserkreans are afraid of the moonlight. Kind of react to it, the way we react to the sun. Sizzle, sizzle, pop, squirt, bubble." Spike made a gross noise with his mouth, causing Angel to wince.  
  
"Could you not do that?" Angel threw a look at his childe.  
  
Spike arched a brow and shrugged. "What?"  
  
"The sound effects, Spike." Angel rolled his eyes, when he heard a flatulent sound from behind him. "You're such a child."  
  
"Well, duh. That's what I was made for."  
  
Angel shook his head. "Nope." Angel chuckled, evilly. "You're just a glorified fledgling.   
  
"You lie!" Spike squealed.  
  
"Nope, wrong again." Angel stopped and sniffed the air again. "They went up." Angel looked at the brick building and started scaling it, with little to no trouble.  
  
Spike scoffed and shook his head. He walked a little further and found a fire escape. He climbed the ladder and started up the stairs. He reached the top of the building, a few moments before Angel tossed his sword on the roof and pulled himself up. "You could have made that a lot easier on yourself..." Spike chuckled. "...ya' poof." He added. "Call me a glorified fledgling." Spike looked across the rooftops and sighed. "Where is he?"  
  
Angel shushed Spike and listened closely. "I hear fighting."  
  
Spike nodded. "Let's go." Spike darted off in the direction of the noise and jumped off the building.   
  
Angel rushed over to the side and looked over. He got there in time to see Spike land in a crouch. "I hate it when you do that!" He yelled.   
  
Spike looked up at his Sire and grinned. "I know!" He laughed. "Come on, Angel!" Spike shot off down the alley. He was flash of white against the darkness.   
  
Angel grunted and sighed. "Children. Every single one of them are children." He muttered, as he jumped down, after his childe.   
  
TBC  
  
-Okay, a little more action, but no Doyle. *sigh* I'll try to bring him back next chapter. Plus, I'm going to try to beef up the chapters a little. Between work and school, I have very little time to write. Thanks for the patience and the encouragement. Keep the reviews comin' and I'll work on the installments. Love you guys!-  
  
--The subtitle to this chapter was You're Going to Get What's Coming, which is a song by Robert Palmer. *sniffle* So many entertainers in such a short time. *sigh* Robert Palmer's music is fun... Check it out and dance to your heart's content.-- 


	4. Prowler

I don't own BTVS or AtS. I truly wish I did, but I don't deserve them and that's the honest truth about it. I don't own any of the characters in this story, except Skittles, but he isn't really a main character, per se. Joss is boss, and I am merely a girl who likes to write down these little figments, for fun. I am so sorry for the wait on this story. I have been dealing with family and work and school and I am about to just fly off the handle and join my friends down at the 'health resort'. (Doesn't that make it sound all nice and fun?) Anyway, thanks for your undying patience. I throw myself on your mercy. Anyway, I should really be getting...  
  
On with the show.  
  
::Stuff and Nonsense- Prowler::  
  
Fred sat there staring at the new man, who was apparently named Doyle, and sighed. "So, you were dead."  
  
Doyle chewed on his bottom lip and nodded his head. It was the third time the girl had said the statement, and he was starting to wonder if she was just a little bit slow. "That would be correct."  
  
Fred looked down at her feet and then over at Doyle's. Something struck her as odd, and then she realized what it was. "You aren't wearing socks."  
  
Doyle lifted his foot up off of the ground and smirked. "I'm not, am I? Huh..." He chuckled.   
  
"Doesn't that make your feet sweat?" Fred asked, curiously. She was dying for something to talk about that didn't involve the dead or death, in general.  
  
Doyle shrugged. "I seem to get away with it."  
  
Lorne looked at the man's feet and grinned. "Yup." Lorne sighed. "As do I, pet."  
  
"Pet?" Doyle smirked. "Do you have these little terms of endearments for every one?"  
  
Lorne shook his head. "Only the ones that I like."  
  
Doyle chuckled. "Oh, well... I consider myself honored, if that's the case."  
  
Lorne chuckled and shook his head. He had been watching Fred closely, as the new man spoke and had suddenly felt a flash of heat pass over his mind. "Fred, I'm going to go pick some things up from Tony's. Would you like to come, or would you rather stay here?" Tony's was, in the simplest terms, a demon convenience store. It carried everything from newt eyes, to beer and cigarettes.   
  
Fred shook her head and screwed up her nose. "I'd prefer to stick around here. Someone might call, or something."  
  
Lorne grinned. "Good thinking, doll." Lorne put his glass down on the table and walked over to the desk. He crouched down and pulled out a little box. He opened it and pulled out some cash. "This is Spike's 'play' money, as he so calls it."  
  
Fred leaned in toward Doyle and whispered, conspiratorially. "That means it's Angel's cash stash."  
  
Doyle bent his head back and laughed. "Of course, it is."  
  
Lorne straightened up his shirt, as he stood up and headed for the door. "Bye, all. See you guys later."  
  
"Bye, Lorne." Fred called out, after the demon. She looked back at Doyle and smiled. "He's kind of strange sometimes, but you don't have to worry about him. He's a nice sort of fellow."  
  
Doyle nodded. "He's certainly not the average sort of fellow, so I suppose that would probably make him nicer than most."   
  
Fred nodded, slowly. "I guess so." There was a rumbling sound coming from upstairs, which made Fred smile.  
  
Doyle looked toward the ceiling and quirked a brow. "What was that?"  
  
Fred snickered. "That was Skittles."  
  
Doyle looked worried for a moment. "Skittles the name of a giant Saint Bernard?"  
  
Fred shook her head and grinned. "Skittles is the name of a little bitty kitten. It's Connor's cat. Angel got it for him."   
  
Doyle nodded and sighed. "Did he, now? Well, that was awful nice of him." Doyle bit his bottom lip. "Who's Connor?"  
  
Fred opened her mouth, as if she were going to say something and then she shut it. After taking a moment to think, she tried again. "You don't know Connor?" Fred laughed. "Well, of course you don't know Connor!"  
  
Doyle scooted back in his seat and chuckled uncomfortably. "Of course. Now, who's Connor?"   
  
Fred leaned back in her seat and smiled. "Connor is Angel's son."  
  
Doyle's eyes almost seemed to light up, as he heard this. "His son? As in his biological son?"  
  
Fred nodded. "I know. It sounds crazy, but Connor is his and Darla's son."   
  
Doyle arched a brow and sighed.  
  
Fred nodded. "Okay, Darla was his sire and Angel killed her before he moved to L.A. Wolfram and Hart brought her back and... Do you know who Wolfram and Hart are?"  
  
Doyle nodded and smiled.  
  
Fred returned the smile and sighed. "Good. That would take years to explain. Okay... Darla was brought back as a human woman and there was this whole territorial thing over her between Angel and Lindsey. Lindsey got his hand cut off, Darla was turned by her grand-childe Drusilla, and Angel slept with Darla, which got her pregnant."  
  
Doyle tried following the story, as close as possible, but the girl was almost babbling and he wasn't sure that he was catching all of the details. "So, Lindsey's hand was cut off?"  
  
"By Angel." Fred filled in.  
  
Doyle nodded, almost stupidly. "And you are sure this wasn't Angelus?"  
  
Fred shook her head. "Angelus didn't come out, until after Connor got Cordelia pregnant and started the beginning of the end."  
  
Doyle's eyes grew wide. Normally, the first thing he would have questioned was the relationship between Cordelia and Angel's son, but he decided that it would probably seem a little odd, asking about that first. He decided to go with the most relevant question and leave the others for later. "The boy started an apocalypse?"  
  
Fred nodded. "But it was relatively mild, as far as apocalypses go."  
  
Doyle slumped back in his chair. "I've missed a lot."  
  
Fred sighed. "But don't worry. Now, that you are back again and you have visions, you won't miss a thing."  
  
Doyle smirked half-heartedly. "Yeah, nothing to worry about."  
  
  
  
There was another rumbling that shook the ceiling and Doyle looked up in disbelief. "What was that?" He glanced over at Fred and shook his head. "You can not tell me that was a little bitty kitten, making all that noise."  
  
Fred shrugged. "Maybe he found a rat to play with."  
  
Doyle stood up and glanced up the stairs. "Or maybe a demon found a kitty to play with." Doyle looked back over at Fred and saw the way her eyes had widened. He smiled, in an attempt to break the tension he had caused. "Does Angel have a shield or something protecting this place?"  
  
Fred shook her head and chewed on her lip. "No, but that's because he's usually here to protect it."  
  
"Well, he's not here now." Doyle muttered as he strolled toward the stairs. He glanced up them and sniffed. "You may want to avert your eyes, for a moment." He grinned back at Fred and the girl smirked as she turned her head, without question. Doyle morphed out and sniffed the air. His face shifted back into its natural, human form and he sighed. "Something else is here."   
  
"That's a pretty good trick. Can you pull bunnies out of hats?" Fred and Doyle both turned toward the voice, which was coming from the kitchen doorway. Connor was standing in the door, grinning at Fred. "You should have watched him. He's spiky."  
  
Fred looked over at Doyle and cocked her head to the side. "Spiky?"  
  
Doyle nodded and frowned at the young man, who was standing in the doorway. "Where is your dad?"  
  
"My father is probably still scraping the last beast we killed, off of the concrete." Connor chuckled. "Gunn said he was going to head on home and wash it out of his clothes. It was pretty messy." Connor headed toward the stairs and stopped in front of Doyle. "Who are you?"  
  
Doyle smirked. "I'm a friend of your father's. He wanted me to stick around here, until he brought you home." Doyle paused a moment and watched the boy's emotionless features. "I'm sure you're tired. Why don't you go up and catch a nap?"   
  
Connor nodded and almost smiled. "I think I will."   
  
Doyle smiled. "I'll tell your father that you're in bed, when he gets home."  
  
Connor shook his head, as he headed up the stairs. "Don't bother. He'll be tired. Just tell him to go to bed and get some rest."  
  
"Well, that's quite nice of you, to be thinking about your father's welfare and all." Doyle leaned against the banister of the stairs and watched the boy make his way up the flight. "Sleep well."  
  
Connor waved over his shoulder and started down the hallway.  
  
"That's weird." Fred mumbled.   
  
Doyle squinted up the stairs and scratched the back of his head. "What's weird, darlin'?"  
  
Fred sniffed. "Connor didn't go in the direction of his room."  
  
"I don't know Connor, but I'm pretty sure that's not him." Doyle whispered, as he turned and pushed Fred toward the front door. "That was a demon, dear. I could have smelled his sort a mile away."  
  
Fred gasped, quietly. "A demon is inside of Connor?"  
  
Doyle wrinkled up his nose and shook his head. "I'm doubting it's something as bad as all that, but I'm pretty sure a monster is posing as your bosses son." Doyle led Fred out into the darkness of the night. He wasn't sure where he should go, but he was positive that leaving was the right course of action.  
  
Fred gasped, again. "What about Skittles?"  
  
"Let's hope he hasn't used up his first eight lives." Doyle looked up and down the street. "Do you know of a safe haven, anywhere close by?"  
  
Fred chewed on her bottom lip and glanced back at the hotel, which was now occupied by an unknown entity. "Well, I do have one idea." She sighed.  
  
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~  
  
"Bloody... Angel!" Spike snarled, as he pulled back on the monster's neck. He tried twisting it until it popped off, but the monster's skin was just too thick to crack through. "What are you doing, Angelus? Leave the bloody phone alone."  
  
Angel put up a finger and nodded, as he muttered something into the receiver of his cell phone. He closed the phone and looked over at Spike, with a smirk. "Okay, now you can tell me what's wrong."  
  
Spike growled and huffed. "His neck won't snap."  
  
Angel nodded and strolled over into a patch of moonlight. "Pitch him over." Angel held his arms open and grinned.   
  
Spike shook his head. "He catches on fire and you are going up in flames, as well. I won't risk it!"   
  
"Nice to know you care, Spike." Angel smiled. "Now, do as I say."  
  
"Stupid pouf." Spike muttered, as he strangled the monster, as well as he was able. Spike yanked the beast, until it hissed and spurted. "Eww! He just spit up on me!"  
  
"Pass it to me!" Angel growled at his childe.  
  
Spike pulled the demon back and swung him in the direction of his sire. "There you bleedin' idjit. Don't say I never got you anything."  
  
Angel dived at the monster and wrestled him into the moonlight. The monster hissed and started to burn. It bubbled and screeched its lament. Finally, it melted into a puddle, at Angel's feet. "That was gross."  
  
"It got on your shoes." Spike pointed out, to his already annoyed sire.  
  
"I know."  
  
"You'll never be able to clean those." Spike added, for good measure.   
  
"I know."  
  
Spike feigned a sigh and shook his head. "And they looked so expensive."  
  
"They were." Angel growled, under his breath.  
  
Spike looked up and caught the look that crossed Angel's face. "What's wrong? I know you're a vain sod, but this isn't about shoes."  
  
"Someone, or should I say something, is posing as Connor, at the hotel." Angel pointed at his pocket, indicating the phone he had stuffed in there, only moments before. "Doyle called from Cordelia's house. Apparently, they have been catching up a lot, in the last few minutes. I think he mentioned something about a spiked heel print being kicked into his..." Angel pulled a face, making Spike laugh.  
  
"That's our girl." Spike chuckled.  
  
"Doyle's a nice guy." Angel murmured. "You should try to be nice to him. He just came back from the dead, you know."  
  
"He's not a guy, Angel. Plus, there's something strange about him, and you know it." Spike quirked a brow at his sire. "You can sense it, just as well as I can."  
  
Angel shrugged and shook his head. "He was dead. Now he's not. End of story."  
  
Spike shook his head. "Buffy was dead."  
  
"Don't bring her into this." Angel grunted.  
  
Spike sighed. "We should address her at some point, Angel. She was important to both of us, as men, as well as demons." Spike sighed, when he realized Angel's resolve wasn't going to break, any time soon. "All right... Penn was dead. In all technical senses of the word. Darla was dead... three times!"  
  
Angel arched an eyebrow and thought. "In think you may be counting funny."  
  
"Just shut up and admit I'm right." Spike huffed.  
  
Angel chuckled and started down the alleyway. "Since when have I been known to do anything like that?"   
  
"There's afirst time for everything, you know." Spike smirked at Angel. "You should do what that red headed cartoon teacher says."  
  
Angel flashed an annoyed look in Spike's direction. His childe knew that he didn't watch cartoons. There was no point in them. He sighed, when he realized what Spike was waiting for. "What does he say Spike?"  
  
"It's a she ya' doof." Spike grinned, wider. "She says, 'Take chances, make mistakes.' It's about time one of them bloody cartoons got some balls and told children the way it really is."  
  
Angel grunted. "I prefer to not make mistakes."  
  
"I know." Spike threw his arms out, dramatically, and turned toward Angel, grabbing the sleeves of his jacket. "It throws off your extremely delicate balance, and we wouldn't be wanting that!"  
  
Angel narrowed his eyes at his childe. "I wouldn't want a cartoon telling my son to be reckless."   
  
"That's just a nasty way of saying impulsive and sometimes it's good to act on impulse, Angel. You used to know that." Spike let go of Angel's arm and stepped back a few steps. He shrugged and shook his head. "I don't really see the difference in letting your son watch a show that induces impulsive behavior and letting you son read a book that encourages drugs."  
  
"What?!" Angel's nerves were starting to fray. He knew that Spike liked to play these games with him, but tonight was really a bad time. Angel knew he was a worrier. He hadn't found Gunn or Connor, yet. Doyle was back from the dead. Apparently, Skittles was still at the hotel and that couldn't end well. He thought about these things, until the drove him crazy. What type of 'guy' did that make Spike, though, seeing as how he didn't give them a second thought? Did he have more faith than Angel? More hope?  
  
"Come on, Angel! Lewis Carroll did not write that book while he was sober! I mean... Look at the scene with the bloody caterpillar! He was smoking up a storm right before he turned into a butterfly."   
  
Less of a conscious? Less of a brain?   
  
TBC  
  
-Again, I want to apologize in the delay of my story. I hope that you guys will understand and review, anyway. Reviews make me work 50 times as hard. (Although, these last weeks, I've been working me arse off and getting nowhere.) *sigh* Love you guys!-  
  
--The subtitle was Prowler, which is a song by Iron Maiden. Hmm... Let's just say that I'm 'in a mood'.-- 


	5. Heartbeat City

I don't own BTVS or AtS, although I do dream about them often. I don't own any of the characters in this story, although I have many fantasies involving some and/or all of them, in various... storylines. What?! What did you think I was going to say, nasty! *scoff* Anyway, Joss is the master and I am a mere fledgling, in comparison. I also believe it is time that I get...  
  
On with the show.  
  
::Stuff and Nonsense- Heartbeat City::  
  
Connor was surrounded by darkness. His head hurt and he was pretty sure his stomach was going to boil, until it evaporated and disappeared, altogether. He had been lying still for the last twenty minutes, and he wasn't sure if his eyes had been opened or closed. Everything was a blur. He couldn't move his arms or legs and his head was way too heavy to lift. He really wasn't sure whether he was lying flat, or propped against something.  
  
He remembered fighting a demon, along side Wesley and Gunn. Then he remembered chasing said demon, throughout back alleys. After a few moments, a smaller demon with spines skittered through the dark alley and climbed up a wall. Connor was instantly intrigued and headed after the beast. Gunn had followed, after making sure that Wesley could handle the other demon on his own.  
  
Now, Connor knew darkness. Connor knew what it was like to be helpless, and he hated it. Connor started to think about how he had put his father in a box and sent him to the bottom of the ocean. It made him want to cry. Why had he been so confused and stupid? Of course, Angel had forgiven him; because that was what Angel did... does. Connor corrected himself.  
  
Connor sighed mentally. There were so many things that he took for granted, in the past. He took his home, his family, his clothing, his health, his ability to move... So many things that he just never really appreciated. All he worried about was *his* revenge and *his* grief and *his* pain. He had been so petty. He had been so self absorbed. When had it all changed? Skittles? No... It had started earlier than that. Connor thought for a long moment and decided the beginning of his evolution had all revolved around one thing. Spike.  
  
It had been Spike's coaxing, Spike's arguing, Spike's jokes, Spike's stupid hair and even stupider clothes. More than that, it had been Spike's ability to make his father laugh again. Spike was more alive than any human Connor knew. Connor wished that Spike was with him now, so that he could thank him.  
  
Connor groaned, mentally. When he thought about Spike, he though about home and his dad. He wanted his dad to be there, so he would hand him a coat and say it was too cold to be out without one. He wanted his kitten to be there, so he could cuddle it. He wanted a hug from Cordelia and/or Fred... he wasn't picky. At the moment, he would settle for a hug from Lorne.  
  
Gunn... Where was Gunn? Was he safe? Was it Connor's fault, if he wasn't? What about Wesley? Had they left him with more than he could handle?  
  
Connor started feeling faint again. The problem was, he wasn't sure he was even conscious to begin with. Was this all a sort of lucid dream? There were so many questions that he couldn't answer. His dad was the one who could go inside of himself and find answers. He had always been more of the take action before you think type of person. He figured that his mother must have been like that. Spike seemed to have a definite mixture between the two. Of course, Spike wasn't his 'brother', per se, so it really wasn't a blood thing. It was all so confusing.  
  
Connor hoped that he would be able to have his sight back, soon. He hoped that he would be able to move, soon. Hell, he hoped that he could breathe, soon. It was so stuffy... Well, that narrowed down where he wasn't. He wasn't outside. Connor sighed and tried to move, once more. He failed. If help didn't get here, within the next few moments, Connor was sure he would go crazy. 'Dad', he thought, 'Please, help me.'  
  
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~  
  
Angel stopped in his tracks and shivered. Something was definitely wrong.  
  
"I told you to get a bloody coat, before we left! Now look at you with the shivering and whatnot. The 'nasties of the night' will be getting the wrong idea about you." Spike scoffed. "This is pathetic." Spike started to mumble under his breath, just loud enough for Angel to hear. "Vampires don't shiver, you stupid pillock."  
  
"Shut up, Spike. I just got this horrible feeling."  
  
"Like an intuition type 'o feeling? Or a preternatural, doesn't really mean any-bloody-thing type o' feeling? Cause you've been having the latter, ever since I've known you, but then again, you have the former more often than not." Spike sighed. "Which is it?"  
  
Angel quirked a brow and shook his head, in confusion. "I'm not following you, Spike."  
  
"I don't expect you to follow, sire." Spike chuckled. "If you would just pay attention, I would be more than a little pleased."  
  
Angel nodded and continued his path up the stairs of Cordelia's apartment building. Spike resumed his place at Angel's heals. Angel like Spike being at his heals, he decided. If Spike was at his heals, he wasn't under his feet or at his throat.  
  
"So, are you predicting some type of 'mean and ugly'?" Spike queried.  
  
Angel laughed, quietly. "It's sad that 'nasties of the night' and 'mean and ugly' are the euphemisms for the things we fight against."  
  
Spike chuckled. "It's good that you still know how to crack a joke, peaches. No matter how meager it ends up being."  
  
"Says the man who can only throw around pessimistic euphemisms."  
  
Spike hummed. "Thanks, pet."  
  
"What's that?" Angel paused and looked around at Spike, confusedly.  
  
Spike smiled up at his sire. "You called me a man. It's one thing for the kiddies to forget my being a mean and nasty vampire, but it's a whole 'nother thing for you to forget." Spike nodded, as if it would emphasize the importance of the statement. "Even for a moment."  
  
Angel nodded. "I suppose so." He agreed. Of course, Spike never 'forgot' that Angel was a vampire. He wasn't able to forget. The whole 'I'm your sire' thing was written in their blood. Even if Spike just barely started to 'forget', the blood would sing to him. The same was true with Angel. At least, it had been, when the blood link between them was stronger. The few times Angel had offered Spike sire blood, to help with his healing, was enough to awaken the blood between them on Spike's side. Angel's side was unaltered by blood, unscathed by time. In essence, he was losing whatever bit of power he had ever held over Spike, and it was pissing him off. Not that he wanted to attack Spike and drain his blood, because that would be irrational and crazy... and Angel didn't do irrational and crazy things... when he had a soul.  
  
Spike grinned, to himself, and smacked Angel up side the head. "Jackass."  
  
"What?!" Angel almost screeched. Spike hadn't actually read his thoughts, had he? No, he decided. The blood was not *that* close between them.  
  
"Quit brooding!" Spike smacked Angel again, this time on the back. "You are starting to resemble Mopey, the eight dwarf." Spike held up his hand, threateningly, making Angel speed up.  
  
Angel laughed. "There wasn't an eight dwarf Spike."  
  
"Says who? Did you know Snow White?" Spike chased his sire up the stairs and grabbed at the older vampire's ankle. Angel pulled his foot up quickly, leaving Spike grabbing at air. The blonde swore and hurried his steps. "I would understand if you didn't want to admit to knowing her. She was a bloody skank, Angelus."  
  
"She wasn't a skank, Spike." Angel laughed, as he almost tripped and feel on his face.  
  
"Nice vampire reflexes there, Angelus." Spike grabbed Angel's foot and pulled him down a few steps. He stepped on the older vampires spine and jumped off of it, bounding up the stairs. "First, you're shivering and now you are tripping?" Spike shouted back toward the fallen 'man'. "So, much for being a Master Vampi..." Spike fell forward, with a grunt. All of the air that had filled his lungs, rushed out in an embarrassing gush. There was a very heavy pressure on his back and Spike knew it was Angel. "Son of a bitch."  
  
"Well, that's what some call me, but my friends call me Angel." Angel pressed Spike's face into the steps and chuckled at the annoyed grunt he received. "You can call me Master."  
  
Spike turned his head to the side and tried to buck his sire off of his back. "Not until I see some pointy ears, mate. Then, we'll talk."  
  
"What in the world is going on here?"  
  
The shriek was enough to make Angel jump to his feet and almost enough to make him flee the scene of the 'crime'.  
  
Cordelia was at the top of the stairs, glaring down at the two vampires. "There are a lot of things in this town that I would expect to find on my doorstep, at three o clock in the morning." She smirked. "A naked bum, begging for change. Twin demons too busy necking to notice Fred and me sneaking by. Never in my life have I ever expected to find my boss, of all people, maiming his childe."  
  
"I wasn't maiming him." Angel grumbled, as he dusted off his pants.  
  
Spike shook his head and pushed himself up off of the ground. "Nope. He was fondling me more than anything."  
  
Cordelia sneered at the blonde vampire and sighed. "Spike, lets play a word association game. What comes to mind when I say... My foot... up your ass."  
  
Spike shrugged and grinned. "Foreplay?"  
  
Cordelia grunted and threw her hands up in the air. "I give up. You guys are too disgusting for me to take on." Cordelia turned on her heal and stomped through her open doorway, slamming the door behind her.  
  
Angel slid down the hallway wall and sighed. "Spike, you are an ass." Angel used Spike's favorite phrase and smirked. "She's going to go inside and tell them all some crazy story, now."  
  
Spike shrugged and pulled himself up into a sitting position. "Some of it is bound to be right."  
  
Angel nodded in agreement. "Yes, we are crazy. Yes, we were caught in a compromising position."  
  
"Compromising to what, Angelus? There view of us? We are vampires, mate. We aren't killing things, and a good chase gets our blood pumping." Spike grinned, lopsidedly. "Well, not so much pumping as sloshing around, but you know what I mean."  
  
Angel shrugged.  
  
Spike groaned. "Oh, come on. You can't think that anything you do, short of ending the world, is going to make them think less of you as a..."  
  
"Don't say person."  
  
"I was going to say hero." Spike banged his head back against the wall and sighed. "Try to loosen up, Angel. You get all wound up and so does everybody else. I need Fred to be all laid back when I ask her to a movie."  
  
Angel scoffed. "You aren't asking Fred to a movie."  
  
Spike nodded. "Yup, I was pretty much planning on it."  
  
"Well, forget it." Angel said sternly.  
  
Spike quirked a brow. "Why? She's a nice girl and we seem to get on, quite well. Thought we would just get to know each other, a bit." Spike grinned, as he watched his sire start brooding again. "She looks up to me, ya kno... Hey!" Spike sat forward and laughed. "That's the problem! You think she has replaced one vampire for another."  
  
Angel gave Spike the 'You have got to be kidding me, because I'm not that immature' look. It just made Spike laugh. "Well, I'm not!"  
  
Spike stopped laughing, slowly, and shook his head. "You're not what?"  
  
"I'm not that immature!"  
  
"Oh..." Spike nodded, with a feigned seriousness. "I see." Spike stood up from his seat on the stairs and offered Angel a hand.  
  
Angel took the hand and dusted off the back of his pants. "You aren't asking her out?" It was more of a question than a statement. It definitely wasn't a command. That meant all the world to Spike.  
  
Spike shook his head. "No, I'm not asking the bird out." Spike stopped in front of Cordelia's door and knocked. "But Legs sure is a hot one."  
  
"Spike..." Angel started, but he was interrupted by the door opening. Fred was standing in the doorway smiling sweetly at him and Spike.  
  
"Cordelia said I'm only allowed to invite one of you in, because you two can't... I think she said 'play nice'." Fred grinned and leaned her head on the doorframe. "Who do I invite in?"  
  
Spike grinned and shrugged. "Invite the pouf. I'm going to stay out here and light up a fag."  
  
Fred's eyes went wide and she shook her head.  
  
Angel saw the look before Spike could and petted the girl's shoulder. "A fag is a cigarette."  
  
Fred eyes lit up with recognition and she grinned. "Oh!"  
  
Spike laughed, when he realized the girl's train of thought and he decided to play with her a little bit. "Now, Angel, you know that I quit smoking!"  
  
Fred's face fell. She knew that Spike was a former evil vampire, but she had not thought that he would stoop to hate crimes. "Ummm..."  
  
Spike chuckled and lunged for Fred. He succeeded in making her scream and pulling her into a hug. "You silly girl."  
  
Fred melted into the hug and sighed. "You're bad!" She stated, with little enthusiasm.  
  
Spike chuckled and grinned, while letting the girl go. "And don't you forget it."  
  
Fred laughed and waved for the guys to come in.  
  
Angel leaned over and whispered to Spike. "Bad guys don't give little girls comforting hugs."  
  
Spike flipped Angel a British bird and hissed. "Bite me." He walked through the door and took a running jump onto the couch. He plopped down next to Cordelia and snuggled into her side.  
  
Cordelia just sighed and rolled her eyes, before draping her arm over Spike's shoulders. She shared a grin with Fred and shrugged.  
  
Angel quirked a brow and grinned, before following Spike. "Don't offer and shy away, childe. You'll get a bad reputation."  
  
"What's that?" Doyle asked the older vampire, as he walked out of the kitchen, munching on a piece of dry toast.  
  
"It sounds like Angel is trying to warn Spike about being a tease." Cordelia shrugged, when she realized the assortment of looks she was getting. "My dad used to give me that speech every other day. I know it word for word."  
  
Doyle muttered something under his breath before taking another bite of toast.  
  
Cordelia shot him a glare and hissed. "You better just keep the comments to a minimum, Mr. Give-Away-the-Mind-Splitting-Visions guy."  
  
"Speaking of which..." Doyle said. "I think I had a vision of your son and his friend."  
  
Angel perked at the news. "Did you? Where is he?"  
  
"He seems to be at some place called 'Drakin's Cave'. There was music and dancing... I think it's a club." Doyle frowned and took another bite of toast.  
  
Spike jumped out of his seat and headed for the door. "Good. At least, he's safe."  
  
Doyle shook his head. "No. I don't think he is."  
  
Spike stopped in his tracks and turned toward the half demon. "What do you mean you don't *think* so?"  
  
Doyle sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose, with his free hand. "I mean that I didn't actually see him there, but I felt his presence and the presence of the other man."  
  
"Gunn." Fred supplied the name automatically.  
  
"Yes." Doyle nodded and popped the last bite of toast in his mouth. "Gunn." He said around a mouthful of crumbs.  
  
"You felt them? You didn't actually see them?" Spike growled.  
  
Doyle took a step back and shook his head. "It's the best I can do. 'Drakin's Cave' on Elm Street, downtown. Ask for..."  
  
"Theo." Lorne muttered, as he walked through the front door. There was a collective gasp, as everyone turned his or her attention to the demon. Lorne's face was broken. His nose was bleeding, his jaw was puffing up, and his eyes were almost swollen shut. "He runs the place."  
  
Spike rushed over to Lorne's side, when the demon started to sway. Spike caught him under the arms and dragged him over to the couch. Cordelia had already rushed to get a First Aid kit and some ice, so Spike made Lorne lie in the empty space. "What happened?" He asked his friend, quietly.  
  
Lorne groaned and glanced over at Angel. "Connor. There's something wrong with him."  
  
Fred gasped and let out a choking sob. "We should have gone to get you."  
  
Spike swore and stomped his foot. "Wesley!"  
  
Angel nodded and sighed. "We'll go get him before we got to the club."  
  
Lorne shushed Fred, who was sobbing quietly, and tried his hardest to smile. "It wasn't your fault, sweet heart. You were to worried about Connor, to think straight."  
  
Fred nodded and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and sniffed. "It's not Connor. It can't be."  
  
"I dunno, doll." Lorne groaned. "He punched like Connor and he had the walk."  
  
Angel shook his head and started for the door. "It can't be Connor. Connor is at 'Drakin's Cave'." Angel opened the door and walked out into the hallway.  
  
"Well, then I hope Angel plans on spanking him, the moment he sees him." Lorne muttered.  
  
Spike had started after Angel, the moment he had gone out the door. He stopped to look back at Lorne, curiously, and asked. "Why's that?"  
  
Lorne smirked, evilly. "You and Angel have had your turns at being cryptic. It's my turn, now." Lorne turned on his side, so that his back was facing Spike. "Go and find little brother... and bring me back a souvenir." He looked back and called out, after the retreating vampire.  
  
TBC  
  
-Okay, guys, I have to ask... Should this be the last story in the series? I love writing these stories, but I'm not sure how others are reacting, because apparently people don't review every story they read. *sigh* Who would have thought? Anyway, I need yo know what you guys think.-  
  
--The subtitle was Heartbeat City, which is an album by The Cars. They are the bestest.-- 


	6. Breathe

I don't own BTVS or AtS. I don't own any of the characters in this story. I'm sorry it has taken so long to post this chapter, but I have really been feeling bad, as of late. No matter! I *will* get better. Positive thinking never hurt anyone. Hehe... Oh, and I should probably warn you that this chapter is kinda' strange, but it doesn't mean I'm going to write slash or get shady anywhere down the road. (Unless, I have an uproar of reviewers who say 'gimme now!' and I don't expect that to happen... Shut up, Chelsea.) Anyway, I suppose I should just skip all of this crap and be...  
  
On with the show.  
  
::Stuff and Nonsense- Breathe::  
  
Spike shoved Wesley into the car and grinned at the British curses that came his way. "Do you kiss your mum with that mouth?"  
  
Wesley shook his head and bit his lip. It stopped the flow of cuss words and it kept him from saying something that was bound to get him hit, later on. He waited and watched Spike jump in the front seat, before speaking again. "May I ask why you snatched me off of the front step, and nearly broke my ankle off completely?"  
  
Spike nodded. "You would have had your butt kicked by Connor, if you had gone on inside."  
  
"Connor?" Wesley scrunched up his forehead. "What did I do to him?"  
  
"You're doing the same thing that all of us are doing, mate." Spike flashed Wesley and obnoxious looking grin and shrugged. "You're existing."  
  
"It's not Connor." Angel insisted, as he glanced at Wesley through the rearview mirror. "It's a demon."  
  
"Yeah, that's right." Spike winked back at Wesley and added cheekily. "Little brother is at some type of club having the time of his life, apparently."  
  
"He's in trouble." Angel growled.  
  
Spike settled into his seat and sighed. "Course he is. Probably having a hell of a time deciding between a Bloody Mary or Sex on the Beach." Angel flashed Spike a dangerous look and the younger vampire seemed to wilt. "They're drinks, Angel. Not like you didn't have a few when you were young and hooliganish."  
  
Angel grunted. "Well, I was looking for new ways to piss my dad off."  
  
Spike nodded quietly. "Maybe he is too." Spike spared his sire a glance and continued. "I mean it's not like he's actually had a chance to go through that whole teenage rebellion stage, like all the other guys his age."  
  
Angel chuckled, as he bit the inside of his cheek. He stopped when the taste of his own blood started to fill his mouth. "You're an ass."  
  
Spike looked over at Angel worriedly. "Angel?"  
  
Angel could tell by the sound of Spike's voice that his childe could smell his blood. He came to the conclusion that he didn't really care what conclusions Spike drew from this. "Who the hell do you think you are to claim that my son hasn't had the chance to go through a rebellious stage?"  
  
If it was possible, Spike seemed to pale at this comment. "I was just saying that I haven't witnessed him rocking the boat and I figured that it was about time he got some gumption and tested the waters."  
  
"Rocking the boat? Testing the waters?" Angel laughed under his breath, but it came out as more of a growl. "What curious phrases for you to use, Spike." Angel looked positively vicious, as he chided his childe. "Didn't I tell you how Connor had trussed me up and put me in a box, before sending me to the bottom of the ocean?"  
  
Spike's eyes grew wide, as he looked at his sire.  
  
"What? That not the type of rebellion you looking for? How about if I told you he found the woman that I... loved, and slept with her, had a baby with her, and almost ended the world. That the rebellion that you were looking for?" Angel stopped at a red light and glared over at his childe. "What if I told you that he killed his own daughter so that he could save a world that he held absolutely no love for... because I told him it was the right thing to do?" Angel's features softened. "I think that Connor is above these petty games that you are accusing him of."  
  
Spike swallowed and nodded. "Green means go, Angel."  
  
Angel looked up and saw that the light had changed, during his tirade. He put the gas on and sighed. They rode around in search of Elm Street for twenty minutes, in complete silence.  
  
Spike finally spoke up, in a hushed voice. "It's nice to see that you still have your sense of family loyalty. I figured after killing so many family members you would get numb to it."  
  
Angel was taken aback by the odd statement. So, he decided to not comment.  
  
Wesley sat in the uncomfortable silence and stared out the window. He decided that the way Spike and Angel were acting was forcing and unwanted sense of nostalgia on him. He remembered uncomfortable silences between school, church, and home. He also remembered them turning into screaming matches the moment they were behind closed doors.  
  
Angel turned onto Elm Street and stopped the car in front of the gaudy looking building, with a glowing sign.  
  
"Drakin's Cave?" Wesley's jaw fell open and he shook his head. "Surely not."  
  
"That's what Doyle said." Angel sighed and stepped out of his car. The other two followed suit. Angel walked over to a young man he saw leaning against the doorway. "If you make sure that nobody touches my car, I'll make it worth your while."  
  
The man looked Angel up and down. He gave the vampire a lazy smile and shrugged. "I'm always up for giving a helping hand. How long you gonna' be?"  
  
Angel shrugged. "Shouldn't be long."  
  
The man grinned and nodded. "So, you're here for someone specific."  
  
Angel quirked a brow and nodded. "Sure." He pushed his way past the man and looked back to find Spike pulling Wesley along. "The ankle still hurting?" He asked without any real concern.  
  
Wesley sighed and nodded. "Yes, seeing as how I'm he only one here without the power of preternatural heali..." Wesley trailed off, as he took his first step into 'Drakin's Cave'. "Holy Mother of God."  
  
Spike shook his head and took in the scenery. "Mother Mary ain't got nothing to do with this place, I imagine." Spike watched a young woman, in what appeared to be a leather bathing suit, pass by. "I'll be back later." Spike started after the woman, just to be dragged up against Angel's side.  
  
Angel pulled Spike to him and hissed. "This is a bondage club."  
  
Spike nodded and smirked. "'tis."  
  
"Why would Connor be here?!" Angel whispered harshly.  
  
"Bout ready to take my theory up, daddy?" Spike gave Angel a comical look and laughed when he saw a couple staring at him and Angel. "They think you're roughing me up. May want to put me on my own feet, now."  
  
Angel looked over and caught the lascivious look that the man and woman were giving him and his childe. He dropped Spike on his feet, without saying a word. His expression spoke loud enough, for anybody.  
  
"Stop glowering." Spike whispered to his sire. "That lady looks like she wants you to whip her and the scowl isn't helping matters." Spike grabbed hold of Wesley's arm and pulled him toward the bar. "Okay, then. You help me find little brother."  
  
"I think Angel is in shock, Spike." Wesley laughed at the sight of Angel scooting into a wall, so as to avoid the touch of a young man in leather.  
  
Spike scoffed and shook his head. "He's tortured more people than you could stuff into this over decorated basement. You would think the sight of a few whips and chains, would be old news to him."  
  
"I think it's the atmosphere and the attitude of the people that is bothering him." Wesley leaned against the bar Spike had led him to, and scooted up onto a stool. He sighed with pleasure, as he took the pressure off of his ankle.  
  
Spike leaned his back against the bar and watched his sire, for a moment. "Nah... Angelus has tortured some sickies, before. I mean, beating Dru was just another Saturday night to him."  
  
Wesley watched, in interest, as a young woman with long blonde hair sidled up to Spike. She started to pet his neck, which made the vampire chuckle.  
  
Spike turned to see who was playing with him. "Hello, darling. Whose little girl are you?"  
  
The woman smiled and pointed over her shoulder at a dark man, who was lounging in a couch in the corner. "Theo."  
  
"Theo, eh?" Spike smirked at the woman and took her hand into his. "I've heard things about you boyfriend."  
  
The woman tittered and blushed, prettily. "I like your accent, but your hands are cold."  
  
Spike arched a brow and nodded. "I like your lack of an accent. Valley girls are so overrated." Spike took a step closer to the woman and leaned in to smell her. She smelled like alcohol, cocaine, and sex. "How about you introduce me to Theo, like a good little girl?"  
  
The woman nodded and pulled Spike toward the man she had indicated earlier. "Theo, this is..." The girl blushed and swore, silently. She turned back toward Spike and sighed. "I forgot to ask you your name."  
  
"William." Spike gave the girl a sexy smirk and pushed her toward 'Theo'. "So, you run this place?" He asked the man, who was now cradling the young woman in his arms.  
  
Theo nodded and gave Spike an appraising look. "You look to hard to be a William." He stated, with a smirk. "You look more like a Spike to me."  
  
"Do I, now?" Spike asked, while cocking his head to the side. "Why would you say that?"  
  
"You just match a description of someone remarkably well, friend." Theo nodded. "I've heard things about a couple of souled vampires, in town. Seems they've been killing off some of my boys." Theo nuzzled into the squirmy young woman's neck and grinned. "You wouldn't know anything about this, would you?"  
  
Spike didn't know what to say, so he decided to lie. Blatantly. "Nope, never heard of anything like that going on. Sounds pretty stupid if you ask me."  
  
"Well, if I ever find out who has been disposing of my guys I plan on giving them a piece of my mind." Theo looked around and grinned. "I have the resources, as you can see."  
  
Spike feigned a laugh and nodded. It was times like these he wished that he still smoked. "Well, I'm just here for a good time."  
  
Theo watched the laid back expression on Spike's face, and shrugged. "Friend of yours?" Theo nodded past Spike.  
  
Spike looked around and saw Angel coming toward him. He looked back at Theo and rolled his eyes. "You could say that."  
  
Angel watched his childe talk to the man, on the couch. He watched the man pet the woman in his lap with his hands, as he pet Spike with his eyes. "This is ridiculous." He muttered to himself, as he stalked toward the group. "Spike." He growled, quietly, as he took his place beside his childe.  
  
"Bout time you joined us, Sire." Spike emphasized the last word, forcefully.  
  
Angel wondered what Spike was playing at, but he decided to try to go with whatever it was, without making a big deal. "Yes, well, I was delayed by a young woman who had too much to drink."  
  
Spike put on a pretty pout and sighed. "Hope she didn't wear you out."  
  
Angel gave his childe a confused glance and pulled him back a step, before whispering so only Spike could hear. "What are you up to, Spike?"  
  
Spike put on a feigned smile and whispered back, just as quietly. "If you don't pretend to be a jealous boyfriend soon, I'm gonna' be put on the meat market. Now, shut up and grab my ass."  
  
Angel leaned back and gave Spike a look that bordered on hysteria. "You have got to be fuckin' kidding me." Spike's face fell, visibly, and Angel knew he wasn't joking. Angel pulled back his hand and slapped Spike across the face. The smack was deafening. "You mean to tell me you've been whoring yourself out, all night." Angel pulled Spike up by the collar of his jacket and took in the panicked expression on his childe's face. It looked real. "You make me sick."  
  
Theo watched this display with interest and sighed. "He was being good, if you don't mind me saying so."  
  
Angel; turned toward the man and dropped Spike in a heap on the floor. He spared his childe a glance, before focusing on the flesh peddler. Spike was wiping at the blood that was dripping down his chin. Angel mentally made a note to apologize to Spike for being so rough. "Now, that I've found one of my boys..." Angel sighed, heavily. "Maybe you can help me find my other boy. He's about this tall." Angel measured off an approximate height with his hand and quirked a brow. "He's handsome and hardly legal." Angel almost killed the man for the grin he was displaying, but held himself back and returned the evil looking smile. "So have you seen him?"  
  
The man nodded and stood up from his seat. He waved Spike over toward the couch he had vacated. "Keep Veronica company while I am away, hey? She gets lonely." The man motioned for Angel to follow him. "One of your little boys decided to test his wings?" Theo asked, conversationally.  
  
Angel growled, silently. "Something like that."  
  
The man grinned and nodded, as he led the vampire down a dark hallway. "My little Veronica tried that." He turned a smile toward Angel and stopped walking. "If you see that their wings are getting to strong, you need to clip them."  
  
"I totally agree." Angel smirked evilly and counted the ways he would like to kill the man, in front of him.  
  
Theo turned toward a door and opened it. He walked inside and turned on the light.  
  
Angel followed Theo inside and gasped. Gunn was sprawled out over a large red velvet cover. His shirt was missing and there were eight or nine bleeding slash marks, across his back. Angel could tell that the man was hardly breathing.  
  
Theo looked around the room, confusedly. "There were two of them."  
  
Angel nodded. "Connor is gone."  
  
Theo gave Angel a look and shook his head. "I don't understand."  
  
Angel turned a feral look on the man and gave into his anger. "And you won't get the chance to."  
  
TBC  
  
-Again, thank you for all of the lovely reviews on the last chapter. I'm almost dying to see what reaction this chapter gets. I'm sure you will all burn me in effigy, but remember I know how the story ends, so you'll just have to have faith.-  
  
--The subtitle to this was called Breathe, which is a song by Pink Floyd. I bow to greatness of 'Floyd'.-- 


	7. Nobody's Child

I don't own BTVS or AtS, but if I did I would put out more than one episode per week. (Says the girl who can, no longer get more than one chapter out a week.) I don't own the characters in this story, but if I did I would make them all make out, constantly. (Preferably with me, of course.) Okay, Joss Whedon is a genius and I am an intergalactic scum monkey... Don't ask. Anyway, I suppose I should be getting...  
  
On with the show.  
  
::Stuff and Nonsense- Nobody's Child::  
  
"Stop it." Lorne scrunched up his nose, in half sleep, and batted at whatever was tickling his face. The thing hit back, and Lorne jumped up, with a start. "What the..." Lorne looked down at his feet and sighed, with relief. "What are you doing here, booger bear?"  
  
"Okay, that nickname is slightly disturbing." Doyle said, with a chuckle. He has just walked into the rook, from the kitchen. He had a small snack cake in hand, which he stuffed in his mouth and devoured instantly. "Is that Skittles?" He asked around a mouthful of crumbs.  
  
Lorne nodded and picked the kitten up, cradling it against his chest. "Well, how did you find your way here?" Lorne gave Doyle a look that told him that he was the one being questioned.  
  
The half demon smirked and shrugged, while wiping the remains of his snack off of his chin. "You were asleep and Fred was reading a book, in the kitchen. I didn't want to disturb either one of you. Cordelia is taking a bath, and I was threatened within an inch of my manhood, not to disturb her." Doyle waved his hand at the squirmy kitten. "I figured I should make a peace offering. You know, since Angel isn't going to find Connor at the club." Doyle collapsed in the chair that was sitting directly behind him.  
  
Lorne hugged the kitten tighter and took a seat on the couch. "Why wouldn't he find Connor at the club? I thought you said that that was where he was."  
  
Doyle nodded. "That is where he was... but it is also where he isn't." Doyle sighed and slumped further in his seat. "I think The Powers are giving me a mental goose chase. It's almost as if I now see the things as they happen." Doyle shook his head and grunted. "I'm getting PMS."  
  
Lorne's jaw dropped open, before he gasped and coughed. "What?!" Lorne spluttered.  
  
Doyle smirked and shrugged. "I used to get premonitions. Now, I get 'postmonitions'. I'm calling it 'Postmonition syndrome'... PMS."  
  
Lorne laughed and shook his head.  
  
Doyle sighed heavily and slumped, until his head almost hit the seat of the chair.  
  
Lorne could tell that even though Doyle was joking about his problems, they were really bothering him. Lorne was inclined to feel sorry for the half demon. "I'm sure your 'sight' is just trying to get back to normal. Try giving it some time."  
  
Doyle shook his head. "It's not like getting your ability to walk back, after being in an air cast for three months. I should be able to 'see' just the same as I always did."  
  
Lorne shrugged. "Maybe it's not your ability."  
  
Doyle gave Lorne a look that hinted at his thoughts of committing the demon. "What do you mean?"  
  
Lorne scooted toward Doyle, until their knees were almost touching. "I just thought that maybe since you gave your power to Cordelia, somebody else's powers were given to you. I mean, you aren't getting mind numbing headaches. You aren't seeing things like you used to, either, from the sound of it."  
  
Doyle looked thoughtful and then shrugged. "Maybe."  
  
"Why don't..." Lorne stopped and thought out what he was going to say, while petting the kitten, idly. "Seeing as nobody else is in here right now... Why don't you tell me why you are here?"  
  
"Right now?" Doyle looked as if he were in pain and shook his head. "I really think I should take that up with Angel."  
  
Lorne nodded and sighed. "Then, you should take it up with him, as soon as possible." Lorne deposited Skittles in Doyle's lap and the kitten curled up in a ball. Lorne smirked and nodded. "Animals can usually tell who the good ones are."  
  
Doyle looked down at the kitten and smiled, ruefully. "Nice to know." Doyle dropped his hand down and ruffled the cat's fur, until it stretched out on its back and smacked at Doyle's hand with his paw. Doyle laughed and swatted back at the animal.  
  
Lorne sighed and leaned back on the couch, propping his feet up on the armrest. "Since you aren't willing to tell me why you are here, why don't you clue me in on the how, of the matter?"  
  
Doyle groaned, as he picked up the kitten and dropped him off on the ground. "Yes, well..." Doyle paused and sighed. "It was all based on a choice that I happened to make."  
  
Lorne waited patiently for Doyle to continue with his explanation. The half demon was rubbing his temples and groaning quietly, so Lorne knew this had to be hard to discuss.  
  
Doyle tipped his head back in his chair and sighed. "I made the subconscious decision to pass on my powers to Cordelia, as I was dying." Doyle put a hand up and looked over at Lorne. "You know that I would not have hurt her purposefully, for all of the power in this world, or any other for that matter."  
  
"Of course." Lorne muttered, under his breath. He really hadn't had a clue, but he figured it was a nice thing to know.  
  
Doyle nodded and let his eyes slip closed. "I made another decision while I was in..." Doyle paused again and thought out what he was going to say, before continuing. "...while I was dead." Doyle sighed again, this time quietly. "Angel needed a message, but it seemed that his mailbox, of my making, was not receiving posts." Doyle opened his eyes and looked over at Lorne. "How long has she been like this?"  
  
Lorne thought a moment and then shook his head. "Months." He closed his eyes and rubbed them. "She was in a coma and then... She woke up. It was unbelievable."  
  
Doyle nodded and sniffed. "That's around the time of *when* it happened. The idea came into play." Doyle sunk in his chair. "What if Angel weren't the only one. The other soul was already in play." Doyle looked at Lorne and frowned. "They just wanted to play with the soul. Spike is a new creature." He paused and let the idea sink in. "Spike is not like Angel. Angelus fought his soul, until it split him in two. On side was Angelus: the soulless demon. The other side was Angel: the souled, conscience-ridden hero. Well, not really. It was Angel: the tortured scab of a man/vamp."  
  
Lorne watched the play of emotions that ran across Doyle's features. The man looked as if he would faint.  
  
"Spike wanted his soul. He embraced it. He didn't want redemption, though. He was a paradox. He was a new toy to play with. The Powers loved it." He grunted. "Spike was a the new love/hate interest, in their little soap opera down here on earth." Doyle let his hand fall down beside his chair and chuckled when he felt a little furred paw swat him. "So, they decided to open the playing field. It seems that Spike has saved the world, just as many times as Angel. Plus, he hasn't tried to end it, at any time. So, the odds were thrown."  
  
Lorne looked confused. Hell... Lorne *was* confused. "But what about the prophecy?"  
  
Doyle shook his head. "Sometimes prophets are dead on, you know... with all of that heavenly insight. While others... many others... are just kind of right. It's like two men looking at a blackboard that spells out the future. Only one of the men needs to clean his glasses."  
  
Lorne nodded, disappointment etched across his face. "So, the shanshu is a blurry prophecy?"  
  
Doyle looked at the green demon and smirked. "I wasn't going to tell you so much, but for some reason I couldn't help myself." Doyle took a breath. "I asked to come back and help. I was sent as a messenger instead. I wasn't handed any special powers..."  
  
"What about the visions?" Lorne reminded Doyle. "You know, like we were talking about..."  
  
Doyle shrugged. "They don't seem special, since I always had them before." Doyle leaned forward in his chair and sighed. "I'm so confused."  
  
"Well, you just came back from the dead. I suppose you can still be a little addled." Lorne chuckled and shook his head.  
  
Doyle smirked at the demon. "Addled? You been hanging out with old people?"  
  
Lorne shrugged. "Only Angel."  
  
Doyle laughed. "What about Spike?"  
  
"Spike is the youngest vampire, over 200, that I know." Lorne stated, with a matter-of-fact nod.  
  
Doyle sat back in his chair again and sighed heavily. "So, I've seen."  
  
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~  
  
Spike didn't question the smug faced look that Angel had been sporting, since they had left the club. He didn't question the fact that the man named Theo had not followed Angel back out front, to lay claim to his territory once more. Spike didn't even question the fact that Angel smelled like blood and pheromones... Okay, he did question that a little, but not out loud. Spike wasn't ready to have his head separated from his body, just yet.  
  
Angel looked over at his childe and rolled his eyes. "What?" Spike had been brooding, ever since they had left the club. It was really starting to wear on his nerves.  
  
Spike pretended not to hear Angel and just kept walking, at a quicker pace.  
  
After they had run Gunn out to the car and laid him in the back seat, Wesley had taken the liberty in toughing out his sore foot and driving over to Cordelia's apartment. Spike and Angel had decided to try to find out where Connor could be, but first they figured they should run by the Hyperion and check out whatever was taking on Connor's shape.  
  
"Spike?" Angel sped up his pace and tried to get his childe to answer him. "What's wrong?"  
  
"I dunno, Angel. What is wrong with this picture?" Spike turned toward his sire and stopped in his tracks. Angel almost ran him over, but he stood his ground. "You smell like you killed someone. Did you?"  
  
Angel arched a brow and smirked. "Is that why you are acting so weird? You think I killed that guy?"  
  
Spike crossed his arms across his chest and stared into the deep brown eyes, of his sire. "Well?"  
  
Angel shook his head. He almost looked hurt. "I thought you would have started to trust me, by now."  
  
Spike sighed and dropped his head back, until he was staring at the pre- dawn sky. "We have forty minutes to get inside before turning to dust and you question my trust for you?"  
  
Angel watched his childe, in interest. Spike had been insightful lately. He was almost starting to show the wisdom that was supposed to come along with his age. Angel really didn't know what to think about it, so he decided to start making tabs on how often it happened.  
  
Spike pulled his head back to an upright position and stared Angel in the eyes. "You. Are. An. Ass."  
  
Angel's jaw dropped minutely. He wasn't sure how to score that.  
  
Spike sighed. "I trust you with my life, *Angelus*. I always have. If you wanted me dead, I would be dead, yeah?"  
  
Angel nodded. It was true. As many times as he and Spike had 'fought to the death', nobody had actually ended up any deader. So, it stood to reason that they really never wanted to kill the each other, at least not as much as they had claimed.  
  
"So, did you kill that man?" Spike asked with as much seriousness as he could muster.  
  
Angel shook his head, with a sigh. "I didn't kill him. The gods know I wanted to... but I didn't."  
  
Spike let out an unneeded breath and shook his head. "You really had me worried for a moment. If you aren't all self-controlling, how should you expect me to be able to keep from following my urges?"  
  
Angel arched and eyebrow. "You've been feeling the tug?"  
  
"Of course." Spike turned away from Angel and started down the sidewalk again. "You feel it." Spike turned and unsure look toward his sire. "Don't you?"  
  
Angel nodded and gave Spike a knowing look. "Not as much as I did, when I wasn't feeding well."  
  
Spike crossed his arms across his chest and then realized he was making a defensive position and stopped. He settled on clenching and unclenching his fists, at his sides. "I've been feeding."  
  
"Daily?" Angel inquired. He knew the answer, of course.  
  
Spike averted the query and changed the subject. "What do you think Doyle was sent here for?"  
  
Angel shrugged. "I guess The Powers realized he deserved to be given back what he lost so needlessly."  
  
Spike chuckled. "You're full of crap, you know that?"  
  
Angel nodded. "It was a nice thought, though."  
  
Spike caught the thoughtful look on Angel's face. He shook his head and sighed. "I thought I was supposed to be the dreamer."  
  
Angel grinned, as he looked at the sky. "It should be light, soon."  
  
Spike nodded, in agreement. "Well, I guess we had better hurry, if we want to save little brother from certain doom and all that." Spike sped up to a jog and left Angel in his wake.  
  
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~  
  
Connor sat in the darkness and tried to remember what it was to have power over his movement. He couldn't tell if he was breathing. It was an odd feeling. He knew he wasn't awake, though. After a lot of contemplation he had come to the conclusion that he was asleep. He had to be. If he had been awake, he would be able to open his eyes. He would be able to feel, hear, discern one thought from another...  
  
Connor decided that if he had to choose, this was probably the worst feeling he had ever had. Even when he had been living in a hell dimension, trapping and killing beasts of unknown origins, he had never felt so helpless. In those situations he had power over himself, and now he was helpless.  
  
Connor tried to think of good things. His father's ability to find him, no matter what, Spike's amazing ability to make anyone laugh about anything, Skittles' cuteness, Cordelia's legs and hair, Fred's sweetness... Connor tried to keep these thoughts at the front of his mind, but other thoughts were pushed toward the front with a ferocity that he had never witnessed.  
  
He figured these thoughts had to be put in his mind. There was no other explanation. Why else would he be thinking of the different ways to kill his father?  
  
TBC  
  
-Okay, this is crap, but I have had a long week. Anyway, love you guys. Please review.-  
  
--The subtitle for this was Nobody's Child, which is a song by ELO. (Electric Light Orchestra) They rock the Kasbah, baby...-- 


	8. The Prophet's Song

I don't own BTVS or AtS, but I would bring the limp and beaten body of Bob Barker to Joss Whedon, if I thought that it would get me anywhere. I don't own the characters that I write about, except a few that are obviously not on the show. Okay, I want to say that last chapter sucked but it was necessary, believe it or not. So, I guess, that being said, I should be...  
  
On with the show.  
  
::Stuff and Nonsense- The Prophet's Song::  
  
It was almost Four A.M. when Kelsey leaned into her brother's embrace and sighed. Tim was 15 years older than her. He took care of her. He loved her. She knew no other life than the one he had introduced her to. That's why she cried when Tim had explained how he had to give her to another family, for a while.  
  
"Kelse, I love you more than life itself. You don't think I would abandon you, do you?" Tim cocked his head to the side and smiled, in his most charming way. His long blonde bangs flopped over into his face and he blew them out of his eyes, casually.  
  
Kelsey rolled her eyes and huffed. "No. I just don't want you to leave me with them forever!" She exclaimed, in dismay.  
  
Tim smiled and shook his head. "It will only be until I help the people that I told you about. Then, I can come back and get you."  
  
Kelsey bit her lip and crossed her arms across her chest, in a defensive fashion. "How long will that be?"  
  
Tim looked thoughtful and shrugged. "Forever?"  
  
Kelsey took a jab at her brother's shoulder and he hopped up from his crouching position. "You're mean!" She yelled at the retreating man.  
  
Tim stopped walking backward and swooped back down to gather his sister in his arms. "I love you, munchkin-head."  
  
Kelsey sniffled and nodded into her brother's neck. "I love you too, butt- face."  
  
Tim tickled his sister's ribs, as he reprimanded her. "If I hear that you have been calling other kids names at school or at the Simmons' house, I will personally come back and beat the tar out of you."  
  
Kelsey pulled back and looked up at her brother with liquid brown eyes. "Then, I'll make sure to call all the kids names, as much as I can."  
  
Tim quirked a brow at the child and sighed. He never would understand his sister's little girl logic. "Why?"  
  
"So, you will come back to me. Even if it is for a spanking." Kelsey buried her face into Tim's chest and cried.  
  
Tim hugged his baby sister to him and tried, in vain, to hold back his own tears. "I love you so much."  
  
"You already said that... twice." Kelsey's voice dropped a few notches, as she dried her face, with her sleeve.  
  
"I mean it twice as much as other people do." Tim whispered back.  
  
Kelsey seemed to understand that explanation. "I love you twice, too."  
  
Tim put Kelsey down and wiped his eyes, with the back of his hand. "I have to go, Kelse."  
  
Kelsey nodded. "I know. Be careful, though. I see monsters."  
  
Tim shook his head and sighed, for what seemed to be the hundredth time. "You see monsters?"  
  
Kelsie nodded. "I'm having dreams again."  
  
"Were they real?" It was a question that passed between Kelsey and Tim, ever since Kelsie was four and could remember her dreams.  
  
Kelsey nodded again. "They had sharp teeth and funny foreheads. I'm not sure that they are bad, but they are still monsters."  
  
Tim pet his sister's hair and nodded. "I'll call you in a few hours, before you go to school."  
  
"And I'll call you when I get out of school." Kelsey hugged her brother's leg. "Bye bye." Kelsey turned and ran toward the big house that she was going to be living in. Mr. Simmons was standing there waiting for the girl with metaphorical open arms. They walked in the house together. Kelsey didn't bother to give her brother a second glance. She knew he would be gone. She always knew.  
  
Tim was always ready to pick up and leave. It kind of came with his calling... his family's calling. He had to be ready to get his stuff gathered and move, when the call came. He was a seer, a prophet, a psychic, an oracle... He was all of the things that gypsies pretended to be, and more. He was the dooming factor for some, and the savior of others. He was an errand boy, and a mailman. In a few cases, he was the Angel of Death.  
  
That's why Tim had decided that he would rather die than tell one more fortune, to one more uptight rich person. Yes, in addition to all of his important jobs, he was a party favorite, when it came to the elite and powerful. It was a way to get quick cash, yes, but it sapped him of all his feelings of self worth.  
  
Now, Tim had always prided himself on being spontaneous, which was hard to do seeing as how he always seemed to know what was around the bend. He also tried to live a comfortable life, while making Kelsey as happy as he could. Tim knew that Kelsey's life would be just as difficult as his, or worse.  
  
Now everything had changed. Tim didn't know what was around the bend. He knew that he hated the direction his life was turning toward. He had fought the fates, in as many ways as he could, but to no avail. They told him, in as few words as possible, what they had planned for him.  
  
He had no choice. He had to leave Kelsey. He had to leave Santa Barbara. He had to find the dark haired man. Then, he had to die.  
  
Tim laughed at the irony of the situation. The times he had to kill were easy enough. Now, that it was his life being taken, he wasn't so sure he could manage.  
  
Tim waited at the bus stop and sighed. The bus came rolling up, right as he reached the sidewalk. He stepped through the sliding doors and smiled at the man behind the steering wheel. "Looks like I got here just in time."  
  
The man smiled back at the boy. "Almost like you knew exactly when I'd be here."  
  
Tim nodded and reached in his pocket. "It's a gift." Tim pulled out a handful of bills. "How much?"  
  
"How far are you going?" The man asked.  
  
"As far as you are willing to take me South." Tim said, nonchalantly.  
  
The man scratched the back of his neck. "My route reaches to Lannalee, from there you can take the shuttle bus to Long Beach."  
  
Tim shrugged. "Well, I don't need to go that far south, but if you can get me to that bus station, I would be much appreciative." Tim handed a fifty to the bus driver and headed past the gate.  
  
The driver turned and whistled for Tim, making the young man turn. "It's not close to this much to get you to the station. I'm at the end of my shift, anyway."  
  
Tim looked around the bus and saw that it was, indeed, empty. "I know, but I figure you can get more use out of it than I will." Tim smiled sweetly. "I don't need money, where I'm going."  
  
The bus driver quirked an eyebrow, and asked cautiously. "Where are you going, son?"  
  
Tim was thoughtful for a moment, and then answered decisively. "The city of Angels."  
  
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~  
  
Spike lay on the hard wood floor, staring at the ceiling. "What in the bloody hell was that?" He stroked the inside of his forearm and grimaced. He was bruised and he didn't really feel like moving much.  
  
Angel sat in the corner gripping his knees and growling. "That was Connor."  
  
Spike shook his head, in disbelief. "That wasn't Connor. It couldn't have been."  
  
Angel gave his childe a withering glare and hissed. "I could hear his heart beat. I could smell him. I could..." Angel sighed and almost whispered. "...feel his presence." Angel looked down at his shoes and growled again. "It was him, but... it wasn't." Angel thought about the day, so far. He had been to a bondage club, he had had upwards of twenty men and women try to pick him up (some literally), and his son had beaten him up. All things considered, Angel was having a bad day.  
  
"What's wrong with him?" Spike wasn't really asking Angel. He was just musing out loud. "He wasn't himself."  
  
Angel rolled his eyes and banged his head into the wall behind him. "No, I would say that is a good observation. Connor wouldn't shoot out all the windows and make us cower against a wall." Angel nodded matter-of-factly. "I would say that's something I've kind of discouraged him from doing."  
  
"Good to see that you took a firm hand in raising him, then." Spike rolled over onto his side and glanced over at Angel. "I can't move over any further, or I'll burn like an elitists' cross."  
  
"Then, sit up." Angel muttered. He wasn't in the mood to exchange antic dotes. He wanted to feed. He wanted to sleep. He wanted to kill... something.  
  
"No. You can be all curled up and uncomfortable, but I'm laying down." Spike put his hand up and looked at his nail polish. He had painted them only a few nights before. "How long we been here?"  
  
Angel shrugged. "Seven hours, almost eight."  
  
Spike nodded, because he already knew how long he was a captive of the light. He had just wanted to hear something other than that humming sound that was reverberating through Angel's skull. "I can't stand your brood mode. It gets me all worn out and tired. You mind if I close my eyes for a few?"  
  
Angel shook his head. "No, go ahead."  
  
Spike arched his neck so that he was looking at his Sire. "You wouldn't let me roll into the light would you?"  
  
Angel smirked and looked thoughtful. He put on a sarcastic tone and grinned. "No, I wouldn't do something like that. Don't you know me at all?"  
  
Spike nodded and lowered back down to the floor, fully. "Keep your smart ass statements to yourself, Angelus. Being a smart ass is my job, not yours. You brood over things you can't change, lust over things that are bad for you, and drink pig's blood out of a mug. That is you." Spike grinned when he caught Angel's look of contemplation. "Stupid pillock. Why is it that we always get caught in this room? I mean, you would think that you would put in bullet proof glass or summit'."  
  
Angel shrugged. "It's expensive."  
  
"Poof." Spike muttered and crossed his arms across his chest. "You're a bloody tightwad."  
  
Angel grunted. "No, I'm just not a spendthrift. You, on the other hand, spend more money than you make, which is nil, by the way."  
  
"You should just drop this and let me sleep." Spike mumbled, with a smile.  
  
Angel dropped his head back and sighed. "I think I *will* let you roll into the sun."  
  
"No, you won't."  
  
It was the answer Angel had expected, but it came form an unexpected source. Angel looked toward the door and squinted. A young man in a denim jacket walked in through the door and dropped a small bag, at his feet. He shut the door behind him and sighed. "Who are you?"  
  
The man looked at Angel and smiled, an almost blinding smile. "I'm here to help. I'm Tim." Tim pushed his long blonde bangs out of his eyes and grinned wider. His eyes sparkled with amusement. "Why are you guys cowering?"  
  
Spike turned his head toward the new voice and opened his eyes. "Hey, you got a blanket on you? We need to get out of this corner and we can't get in the sun." Spike caught the disbelieving look and nodded. "I know it sounds stupid, but I'm serious."  
  
Tim looked down at his body and shook his head, with a smile. "Sorry. I don't carry Afghans, on my person."  
  
Spike nodded. "Everyone is a bleedin' comedian."  
  
Tim's face dropped and he shuddered, slightly. "I'm bleeding?"  
  
Angel watched the boy closely and cocked his head to the side. He had never seen anyone turn so white, so fast. Well, other than when he was bleeding them dry. "You aren't bleeding. Spike's just British."  
  
Tim nodded and swallowed the lump in his throat. "I see. So, how can I help you guys?"  
  
Angel stood up and pointed toward the closet, near the man. "Bring us a couple of blankets."  
  
Tim opened the closet and pulled out some covers. "These work?" He took the blankets toward Angel and Spike and held them up for inspection.  
  
Spike harrumphed. "Now, I'll never get to sleep."  
  
Tim chuckled and threw the blankets at the vampires. "So, you guys must be allergic to light, huh?"  
  
Spike chuckled. "You could say that." Spike pulled the blanket around himself and turned over. "Good night."  
  
Angel kicked Spike, in the side. "Get up. We need to hot-foot it, if you will excuse the pun, upstairs."  
  
Tim chuckled when he looked between the two 'men'. "Monsters." He muttered to himself, under his breath.  
  
"What's that?" Spike turned over and peeked his head out from under the cover. He looked like a young Indian women, except blonde, blue eyed, and male. "Monsters?"  
  
Tim nodded and shrugged. "Monsters. They are everywhere."  
  
Angel looked at the boy, from under his blanket and took in his casual air. He seemed almost arrogant, yet he was openly friendly. He seemed very innocent, but he was obviously well informed. He was laid back, but he went into a panic quickly. He was confusing and a waste of Angel's time. "Thanks for the help... Tim. Goodbye." Angel gripped the blanket tightly around his face and ran for the stairs.  
  
Spike stood up and watched his sire run upstairs. He turned toward the boy and took a chance to look him over and gather his own conclusions. He came to a more devastating observation than Angel did, because it was distressing enough to make him yell. "Angel! The boy is a demon!"  
  
TBC  
  
-Hmm... Who is this guy Tim and why is he crawling into the storyline? What will become of Connor? Why is Lorne such a snappy dresser? How many licks *does* it take to get to the tootsie roll center of a tootsie pop? Hmm... *laughs evilly and vanishes in a cloud of smoke*-  
  
--The subtitle to this was The Prophet's Song. If you can guess who the band was that did it, I'll give you a cookie and a chance to win a million dollars!-- 


	9. Life's an Elevator

I don't own BTVS or AtS, mainly because I don't deserve them. I don't own any of the characters, mainly because I wouldn't share them. So, I am an undeserving and selfish child... *sigh* Joss Whedon is the man behind the mystery and I am just another pretend sleuth working my way through the case files. Anywat I guess this should be the time that I get...  
  
On with the show.  
  
::Stuff and Nonsense- Life's an Elevator::  
  
The boy had been in and out of stores, all day. He had only taken one or two items, as far as the reports went, but the cops were on the lookout. Shop clerks were wary of keeping their doors open. Apparently, this particular day was going to be hell and they wanted to be at home, in bed and asleep, if that were the case. Money kept them open, though. Money kept them in LA. Who would live in LA otherwise, especially with all the weird things that happened each and every Wednesday?   
  
Wednesday; a day where all good teenagers were at school, learning and joking around with their friends. A day where they contemplated what they would do that night, at their weekly youth group get together. When had things changes? Somewhere in the sixties, when everyone realized the fifties had died, with it's blindingly insipid idealistic points of view. Yes, another lovely day in Los Angeles.  
  
Newspaper reporters were being evaded, right and left, the six o'clock news thought a small crime spree by a local teen was nothing to worry over, and the cops were getting nowhere. The day dragged on and the boy had disappeared... until the murder, that is. A seventeen-year-old girl had been found dead, that afternoon, on Sunset Blvd., and it was assumed that the young man had something to do with it.   
  
This little piece of information had changed the view point of Los Angeles News Channel 9. The boy's description stretched from Fresno to San Diego. Sandy hair reaching his neck, large blue eyes, and a cold looking smile. The boy was between the ages of 18 and 20 and should be considered dangerous, if not armed.   
  
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~   
  
Cordelia jumped out of the bathtub and grabbed a towel, wrapping it around her. She ran out of the bathroom and barreled into Doyle.  
  
"Whoa, princess. Take it easy." Doyle held Cordelia's shoulders and then dropped his hands, in an embarrassed fashion. "Where's the fire?" He asked, while slipping his hands into his pockets and taking a step backward. "Not in the bathtub, I suppose." He muttered, while looking past the sodden woman, toward the bathroom that she left in such disarray.  
  
Cordelia's eyes grew wide and she hissed. "Connor!"  
  
Doyle bit his bottom lip and nodded. "I've been given the scoop on you and him, darlin' and I've decided that since I was dead at the time, I forgive you." Doyle nodded and sighed. "You don't think you could have picked someone a little older to work your wiles on, though?"  
  
Cordelia's jaw dropped. She balled up her fist and punched Doyle in the shoulder, causing him to flinch. "Jackass! I was talking about him being on the news! They described him on the radio! Apparently, he's running amuck, downtown!"  
  
Doyle quirked a brow. "Are you sure you heard it right, Cordy? I mean, I haven't had any unholy updates lately, on the kid." Doyle scratched the back of his head and shrugged. "I think if he was causing any real havoc, I would have been warned."  
  
Cordelia scrunched up her nose in anger and huffed. "Maybe you aren't being updated, because you can't handle the havoc he is causing!"  
  
Doyle's own anger flared at this comment. "Really?" He asked, snidely. "What's your excuse?"  
  
"I gave birth to a Goddess!"  
  
"Oh, and that makes you special, does it?!" Cordelia almost dropped her towel, as she fled from Doyle's sight. She slammed her bedroom door behind her, leaving the man in a stunned silence. "What just happened here?" Doyle asked himself, in a mutter.  
  
  
  
"I dunno' what happened exactly, but it looks like you pissed off the bird."   
  
Doyle turned to find Spike standing in the front doorway, and sighed. "Thanks for stating the obvious, Spike. I really needed you to put that into perspective for me." Doyle walked into the living room and took in Spike's appearance. He had changed clothes.  
  
Spike grinned and shrugged, as he sauntered through the doorway. "Want some more obvious observations?"  
  
Doyle shrugged and slumped down into the nearest chair. "Couldn't hurt."   
  
"I wouldn't be so sure about that." Spike grinned and shook his head. "She's gonna' make your life hell, until you apologize and admit that you were wrong for what ever it is that you did, or didn't, do."  
  
"Oh?" Doyle rolled his eyes and sighed. "And what would you know?"  
  
"I know Cordelia." Spike grinned lasciviously and winked at the Irishman.   
  
Doyle grunted in a noncommittal way and shrugged. "Where's Angel?"  
  
Spike pointed his thumb at the door and sniffed. "He's bringing up the newest recruit. This one's no older than an Eagle Scout and twice as prepared."  
  
"...couldn't tell you anymore than that." The bright-eyed boy walked in the doorway, just as Spike mentioned him. He and Angel were discussing something that made Angel's forehead droop. The boy turned his head and grinned toothily at Spike and then at Doyle. "Hello. I'm Tim."  
  
Doyle looked the boy over and hissed. He looked as if he stepped out of a Seventeen magazine, with the fresh face and floppy blonde hair. He wore a pair of corduroys and a white t-shirt, topped off with a light gray cardigan. "Did you just step out of Mr. Roger's neighborhood?"  
  
The boy quirked a brow and took in Doyle's appearance. "Did you just step out of a disco?"  
  
Doyle looked down at his ensemble and winced. He had forgotten that he had borrowed a pair of slacks from Lorne. Who knew that the tamest color in the guy's wardrobe was electric blue? "Touché." Doyle muttered, as he let his head fall back.  
  
Tim smirked and shook his head. "You should probably let it out, you know."  
  
Doyle snapped his head up and snarled. "What would a boy know about it?"  
  
"I know that if you don't let things out, bad things happen."  
  
Doyle raised an eyebrow and sniffed. He wasn't sure if the boy meant him personally or if he was talking about the all-inclusive 'you'. All he knew was that the boy had a deeper understanding of the situation than anyone else in the room... but how did he know that? "Really? Is that so?"  
  
  
  
Tim shrugged and sighed. "Or I'm full of shit. Either way." Tim yawned and covered his mouth with the back of his hand. "I'm sorry." He moaned through the yawn.   
  
Angel smirked. "Tim was on the road for eight hours on a smelly bus."  
  
Tim gulped and nodded. "I stayed up and watched a man clip his toe nails, for five hours." Tim bit his lip. "Apparently, it was a process for the man." Tim sighed. "Also, I was stuck next to the bathroom. That's why I stink."  
  
Doyle nodded his understanding. "Why didn't you take the other three hours to sleep, on the bus ride?"  
  
Tim cocked his head to the side and grinned. "I'm not sure you get exactly how smelly this bus was."  
  
Doyle couldn't help smiling at this. The kid was charming. He would give him that much.   
  
"Do you want a shower?" The men in the room turned and saw a sweetly smiling Cordelia, clothed in a pretty blue dress. "Feel welcome to use my shower. I just have to straighten up in the bathroom first. I left a mess."  
  
Tim shrugged and smirked. "I need a shower, but I don't have any clothes."  
  
Cordelia looked the boy up and down and sniffed. "Maybe you can wear some of Connor's clothes, if one of the boys don't mind running and getting them for you." Cordelia threw a smile over at Spike and Angel.   
  
Spike shook his head and shrugged. "It's pretty bright outside, as of the moment. You sure he needs a shower that badly?"  
  
Cordelia sniffed the air and grunted. "Your sense of smell is better than mine. Why isn't this killing you?" Cordelia colored up a nice shade of red when she caught the look on Tim's face. He seemed quite amused with her, if not slightly embarrassed. "I'm sorry."  
  
Tim chuckled and shook his head. "No, no. It's all right. I can handle the abuse. Trust me. If this is the worst that you guys say about me, by the end of the week, I'll have to say I was lucky."  
  
"Why do you say that?" Cordelia gave Tim an confused grin. "You planning on making our life miserable?"  
  
Tim shrugged. "Not planning on it, but sometimes things are just written in the stars."  
  
Spike grinned widely. "Tim's a spiritual guru and a psychic."  
  
Doyle chuckled. "Aren't we all?"  
  
Tim's perpetual smile fell from his face and he shot a scowl at Doyle. "No, we aren't. Some have psychic powers, as a curse." Tim glanced over at Cordelia and winked. "While others have it as a gift."  
  
Doyle sneered at the boy and shook his head. "And what, pray tell, is your powers? A gift or a curse?"  
  
Tim shrugged. "It's genetic. It's a trait passed on through our family, like blue eyes and blonde hair. I don't see it as a curse or a gift. It's just the way things are."  
  
"Well, cancer and rheumatoid arthritis can be passed through family blood lines, can't they?" Spike asked, in his sweetest tone.  
  
Tim shrugged. "I suppose, but I prefer not to look at this as an illness. If I look at it that way, then there is no telling how my little sister would look at it."  
  
"You have a little sister?" Cordelia grinned. "How little?"  
  
"Well, she's kind of young for her age." Tim scratched the back of his head and shrugged. "She's ten, but she seems to be about six. She's about ye high and has a lisp." Tim put his hand at the top of his hip and smirked. "Most people confuse her for my daughter. Kelsey is a wonderful child."  
  
Cordelia sighed. "I always wanted a sister. Someone to share secrets and makeup tips with."  
  
"And boyfriends and your parents' attention." Doyle gave Cordelia a smug look.  
  
"I would have risen above it." Cordelia snarled back at the Irishman.   
  
"Oh, I'm certain that you would have risen about as readily as you did, when that little tart of Angel's gave you the eye." Doyle did his best to not spare Angel a glance. He could feel the older demon glaring already. "When he did that you should have spanked him, not screwed him."  
  
Spike burst out laughing. "I'm sure she did a little bit o' both."  
  
Angel jabbed Spike in the side and they exchanged disparaging glares.  
  
"I. Was. Possessed by. A higher. Power!" Cordelia let out a scream, before stomping toward the bathroom and turning to point at Tim. "Follow me!" She turned back toward the bathroom and stomped inside.  
  
Tim looked at the other guys in the room and shrugged. "The lady beckons. I must obey." Tim stuck his hands in his back pockets and sauntered after the beautiful, yet angry woman.  
  
Angel shot another look at Doyle and grunted.  
  
Doyle shrugged. "If I didn't say it, who would?"  
  
Angel growled. "Well, certainly not me. I'm tired of all of this tension between my family members."  
  
Spike shrugged a shoulder at the half demon. "I thought the last conversation between us and Connor went quite well." Spike mimed a few punches and chuckled low in his throat.  
  
Angel turned a look at his childe and grunted. "Why are you being so happy?"  
  
Spike chuckled and shrugged. "What? You think that I should take after you, daddy dearest?"  
  
Angel grunted and shuddered. "Don't call me that." He muttered.  
  
Spike chuckled for a third time. "This whole conversation was bollucks, you know." Spike grinned at the Irishman. "You really shouldn't call out that 'lil' tart of Angel's'. He'd kick your ass, if he heard you talk like that."  
  
"Yeah. He would." The men in the room turned at the voice that came from the door. Connor was leaning in the doorway, arms crossed across his chest, and a wicked smile etched across his face.   
  
"Michael." The men turned toward the hall and frowned, almost in unison. Tim was standing in the archway, gripping a towel at his waist. "I should have known. 'Monsters are everywhere.' It's what she said."  
  
Connor smirked and nodded, while straightening his spine. "How is Kelsey doing, Timothy? Last time I saw her she was so very sick."  
  
Tim's face drained of color and he shook his head. "She's safe. That's all that matters."  
  
"Safe, yes, but at what costs, Timmy?"  
  
"What the hell is going on here?" Angel finally took a step forward. He had been itching to spank his child and hug him, ever since he stepped into the room. Now, he just didn't know.  
  
Tim tightened up his grip on his towel and sighed. "Angel meet Michael. He's inhabiting your son's body."  
  
Angel glared at the newcomer and growled.  
  
Michael smirked, cordially. "Hello."  
  
TBC  
  
-So, It's been a long, long while. I have been busy working and tying up loose ends in my schooling. I'm now ready to start college! Whoo hoo! Yay for me! Anyway, I'm sorry for the delay in this. I hope to get another chapter out soon, but I won't promise it will be within the next few days. I will promise however, that if I don't post within the next few weeks, I will ram my face through a plate glass window. *giggle* Love you guys. Please review.-  
  
--The subtitle was Life's an Elevator by T-Rex, because it's true and I felt like it.-- 


	10. Magic Man

I don't own BTVS or AtS, but if I did they would be an ongoing phenomena that would carry on through the centuries... You know, until James Marsters and David Boreanaz started looking old. Which, lets face it, those boys age a hell of a lot more graceful than anybody else we've watched over the years. Okay, Joss owns it all and I am a worm, an insignificant tick draining the story line and making it work. Hmm... That's about it I suppose. The only thing left to do would be to get...  
  
On with the show.  
  
::Stuff and Nonsense- Magic Man::  
  
Spike tapped his foot against the carpeted floor and cocked his head to the side. It made sense really. Connor wouldn't have been able to kick his ass, so easily. "Michael, huh?" Spike looked the boy up and down. "That really Connor's body?"   
  
The Connor look-alike quirked a brow and grinned lasciviously. "Yes, I found out that I like this body quite a bit." The boy sighed lustily and shook his head side to side. "Let's just say that it goes the extra mile."   
  
Tim scoffed. "I'm sure it does. What have you put that body through, Michael?"   
  
Michael chuckled wickedly and rubbed his chest. "Nothing that the boy hadn't already done himself." He took a few steps toward Tim, before being cut off by a large dark vampire. Michael looked up and smirked. "Hello, again."   
  
"I've been through this before, a few years back. An old man stole my body and used it to do many different things he would never be able to do. It's sickening. Now, where is my son?" Angel glared into his son's face and felt his heart pull. They were still his eyes. Except that they were laughing. Connor's eyes didn't laugh. They might smirk, but never laugh. "Go back to your own body and give my son back to me!" Angel growled.  
  
Michael quirked a brow and shook his head. "I don't understand."  
  
"Get out of my son's body." Angel was close to grabbing the boy, when Tim took a hold of his arm.   
  
"Connor is still inside the body, Angel." Tim whispered. "You hurt him and you hurt Connor."  
  
Michael winked at Tim and chuckled. "You're a doll."  
  
Angel growled again and gave Tim a look. "Can we exercise him out?"  
  
Michael burst out laughing and turned to walk away. "You could try, but you would kill your son. I put up a damn good fight and Connor is more demon than I am." Michael stopped in the doorway and looked back at his body's father. "Connor is a little scared, but he's not in pain. I thought you might want to know that." Michael threw another wink at Tim and left his audience, in silence.  
  
Angel was about ready to burst. He couldn't hurt this... thing, because Connor was still inside? Where was the monster's original body? What did it mean when it said Connor was more demon that it? Angel turned on Tim and grabbed him up, by the neck. "I need answers, now!"  
  
Tim almost dropped his towel, but he clutched at it and held on for dear life. "Just ask me and I'll tell you." He choked out. Tim was pretty sure Angel was crushing his windpipe.  
  
Angel dropped the boy, in a heap, on the floor. "How do you know this thing, inside my son?"  
  
Tim hung his head and gripped his towel closer to him. "I'm connected to it. Our auras have... mated."  
  
Spike coughed and excused himself from the room. Angel watched him leave, with little interest. "So you two..." Angel waved his hands in front of him, in an uncomfortable fashion and grunted.  
  
Tim raised an eyebrow and stared at the vampire, confusedly. "We... what?" Suddenly, it dawned on him. "Oh... Oh. No." Tim shook his head and sighed. "Nothing like that. It was a spiritual thing." Tim cleared his throat. "He doesn't need sustenance to live, because he just... is. He also takes on the sexuality of whatever it jumps into. So, now Michael, or Connor, considers himself male, when at other times he believes he is female in every way shape and form. Michael is not the only name he's carried, obviously." Tim was babbling, now.  
  
Angel grinned dangerously and nodded. "Get on with it, Tim."  
  
Tim cleared his throat and nodded. "It has been Abigail, Nephratina, Howard, Zenite, Amy, Kenneth, Helena, Samuel, Kristoph, Meredith, and... Kelsey." Tim pushed himself up to his feet and sighed. "He was inside the body of my sister for over a month, before I realized anything was wrong." Tim frowned. "He's more violent, now." The boy looked up at Angel and shook his head. "He can sometimes take on personality traits of the person he inhabits. That may be why he is such a live wire, right now."  
  
Angel nodded, solemnly. "How did you expel him from your sister." Angel felt a little more compassion for the boy, now that he knew he had gone through, practically, the same thing.   
  
Spike walked back into the room, just at that moment. "All better now. Think I had something caught in my throat."  
  
"Like your breakfast?" Tim asked with a lopsided grin. "It's not what you think."  
  
Spike shrugged. "I'm a very forward thinking individual. You and the spirit boy screwed, that was your business. I don't care a wit."  
  
Tim nodded and smirked at his feet. "Forward thinking man that you are, I figure you should know that Michael and I never 'screwed', as you so delicately put it. Men from the late 1800's didn't discuss many out of body experiences, did they?"   
  
Spike shook his head. "Some things were deemed unholy, therefore unacceptable to discuss in polite society. I was polite society, back then."  
  
Tim nodded. "I'll explain 'Michael's' origin a little, before I explain how I met 'him'. Michael has not always been... Michael. That was just his name, when I met him. He's really an 'it', in his true essence. He's an ancient spirit. He used to inhabit some woods on a little island, off the coast of Ireland. Many years ago, when water and wood nymphs, still ran around, he was their keeper. Then, one day a man walked into his woods. Men had never walked in his woods before and he was very interested. This thing had no special powers, and yet it acted as if it owned the forest. Then, it did own the forest. Trees were cut down and houses were being built. He had no concept of time, as a spirit, so he didn't know if it was weeks or centuries that this went on. The more the forest disappeared, the more he dissipated into oblivion. Finally, he was so weak that he decided to make one final plea with the powers that be."  
  
Spike scoffed. "There are those bloody 'powers' again."  
  
Angel shushed him and motioned for Tim to continue.  
  
Tim took a deep breath. "He told them he either wanted his woods back, or he was quitting... you know, more or less. They told him they could do nothing for him and there was nothing he could do and nowhere he could go, except perhaps fading away. 'Michael' took the little power he had left and went to a human that lived in the heart of his woods. Her name was Abigail. He found out that her mind was slow, and her will was weak. He had no problem breaking the barriers of her mind and cozying in. He had fought the rules that had been set for his race and won. The ancient spirits were to never move into a living form, other than an animal, and that was only during dire emergencies."  
  
Tim gulped and continued. "With every human he inhabited, he took on more of there weaknesses and flaws; Guilt, being one of them."  
  
"Guilt is a flaw?" Doyle finally spoke up from his place in the corner. The others had almost forgot his presence, up until this point.  
  
"To an ancient spirit, yes." Tim scratched the back of his head. "It'a a human emotion and humans are flawed animals."  
  
"All right, now that we know what he is. How did you two meet?" Angel walked over to the couch and sat down. "Make it believable."  
  
Tim frowned. "I'll try, but it's pretty unbelievable." Tim took a deep breath and continued on with his story. "I was in 11th grade, when I met Michael Nelson. He was a slight boy, with black hair and blue eyes. He had spirit, though, and I respected that. After a time, we grew to be the best of friends. We went deep-sea fishing, camping, and out to the park, almost every day. He loved the outdoors. Then, one day he asked me if I knew anything of the black arts. I just held my peace and shrugged. He knew I was lying. He could tell that I was a psychic. He accused me of being a seer, without a cause." Tim paused. "I was shocked. Taking care of my sister and getting through school was my cause, I had told him. He told me that I was wasting my ability and that I had more stored up power than he had ever witnessed in a human." Tim smirked, wryly, and shook his head. "That was an odd statement, I had thought. I called him on it, and he had just smiled and pulled me into a hug. He wanted me to meet him that night, in the woods behind his house."  
  
"And you went?" Spike was sitting on the edge of the couch's arm. One slight movement and he would probably land on his ass. "You met the kid?"  
  
Tim nodded. "I met him, and we ate marshmallows and drank coffee. Nothing was 'off' except that I couldn't read him. I had pulled nothing off of him, from the moment I met him. I suppose that was one of the reasons I liked him." Tim smiled, almost fondly. "I've never been able to kiss a girl, without getting flooded with her memories of kisses, from other guys. I've never been able to hug my grandmother, without having flashes of World War II." Tim looked Angel in the eyes and shivered. "You have a very scary past. I saw it, when you..." Tim rubbed his neck and swallowed.   
  
Angel scratched his bottom lip with his upper teeth and nodded. "Go on."  
  
"Michael finally told me why he wanted me there that night. He wanted to try something with me. Apparently, he was into astral projection and something he called mingling auras. He said it was better than drugs, and even better than sex. I had nothing to compare it too, but I wasn't going to tell him that. I had a sneaking suspicion that he knew, anyway. So, I told him we could give it a go. He told me what to do and how to keep myself anchored to this reality. He also promised that if I tried to drift away, he would catch me and bring me back to earth."  
  
Doyle sighed. "You trusted him. With your life, your very existence." The Irishman shook his head. "It scares me what teenagers will trust their friends with."  
  
Tim nodded. "We did everything that was required and I lifted out of my body... my armor, is what he called it. He told me when you drop your armor you are more agile and graceful. Faster and truer to your being. I felt it. That elation that he had spoke of. I lifted off of this plane and he brought me back." Tim's eyes were closed. "We were no longer friends. We were linked." He opened his eyes and stared at Angel. "The original Michael Nelson was committed two days after the spirit left his body. He could no longer connect words and make a full thought."   
  
Angel nodded. "Is Connor going to be like that?"  
  
Tim shrugged. "Depends on a lot of things, really. He was inside Kelsey and he left her in immaculate condition, physically speaking. He would never hurt something that was important to me. That's what he said, anyway."   
  
Spike leaned forward and caught himself before he fell off of the couch's arm. "Why did he possess her in the first place?"  
  
Tim frowned. "To be close to me. I was his only friend. In thousands of years, I was his only friend. That's ended, though. He may not have harmed Kelsey, physically, but he took over her free will and made her feel helpless. He might as well have raped her." Tim rubbed his temples with his forefingers. "He doesn't understand my point of view, on that subject. He's never truly known regret. He just has short flashes of guilt."  
  
"How did he break it to you, that he was an ancient spirit? Wouldn't that be something hard for you to take in, even if you are slightly abnormal, yourself?" Angel watched the boy's face and waited.  
  
Tim shook his head. "He didn't tell me. I felt it that night, in the woods. I experienced his aura and he experienced mine. I can feel what he feels, now. I can feel what your son feels, because he is so... close, I suppose would be the right word."  
  
"This doesn't make sense." Doyle stood up from his seat and stretched his arms above his head.  
  
Tim shrugged. "The truth never does. It isn't fair and it doesn't make sense."  
  
Spike nodded. "The truth is often senseless."  
  
Angel grunted. "I thought you gave up poetry."  
  
Spike scoffed and sent his sire a withering glare. "And I thought you weren't a prick, anymore. My bad."   
  
Angel dropped his head back on his chair and groaned. "I'm not going to say I'm sorry, but I admit that comment was uncalled for."  
  
Spike shrugged. "No, whatever. You're mad about you kid being possessed and all. It happens."  
  
Angel nodded. "Not often, but it does happen, I guess."  
  
Tim shivered and realized he was still in a towel. "I think I'm going to get dressed."  
  
Angel waved the boy away. "All right, but when you get back you tell us how to coax that thing out of my son."  
  
Tim stood up and walked toward the bathroom, where Cordelia had left some clothing for him on the sink. He washed up, fairly quick, and proceeded to get dressed.  
  
Spike grunted and passed a glance over to Angel. "You think the boy can pry his Ex outta' Connor?"  
  
Angel shrugged, as he tried valiantly to stare a hole in the wall. "I don't know, but what other option do we have. What if he's right about hurting Connor? I don't want to risk an exorcism on my son, if it's going to harm him."  
  
Cordelia stomped into the room, about that time, looking very disgruntled. "Where did you put him? I was in my room, for little less than thirty minutes and he's already gone?"  
  
Angel gave Cordelia a long hard look and finally let out an unneeded sigh. "Put who, Cordy?"  
  
Cordelia harrumphed and exclaimed. "My guest. He left the bathroom in perfect order and I can't find him, to thank him for it."  
  
Angel shot up from his seat. "He's gone?"  
  
Spike stood up, a little more slowly. "I knew that kid would want to play hero, or something."  
  
"Well, I guess we better go find him." Doyle stood up, also, and grinned at Angel. "Like old times, huh?"  
  
Angel smirked. "Except we're saving my son, and my demon offspring is tagging along."  
  
Spike quirked a brow. "Well, come on pops. Let's stop yapping and go save the boy." Spike headed toward and out the door, coat swooshing at his calves.  
  
Doyle watched the vampire leave and shot a look at Angel. "That's a nice coat. Looks good on him."  
  
Angel nodded, thoughtfully. "Yeah, it adds a little something, I guess." He turned a grin at Cordelia. "Call Wes and check on Gunn. We'll be back soon." He and Doyle rushed out the doors, just as Cordelia called out to them.  
  
"Take the sewers. It's still... light outside." Cordelia sighed and headed for the phone.  
  
TBC  
  
-Albeit, this was an odd chapter, I love histories of people and I thought you should know a little about the new 'boys'. Of course, whether it all true or bogus, I'm not going to tell. *giggles evilly* Okay, babies, please review.-  
  
--The subtitle is Magic Man by Heart, cause those chicks rock me hard!-- 


	11. Night in the City

Warning- This chapter contains a little bit of violence and strong language.   
  
I don't own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Angel the Series. I truly wish I did, so that they could go on forever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever... but alas. *sniff sniff* I don't own any of the characters except for the obvious ones, and I'm just going to kill them all anyway, so what does it matter? All right, I'm just a fanficer and Joss is the greatest writer of all time. I am at his mercy, whenever he returns my posts. Ahem... Well, I suppose it is almost time we get...  
  
On with the show.  
  
::Stuff and Nonsense- Night in the City::  
  
The girl laid back her head, breathless from the physical exertion. "You sure got some energy, sugar. I have a couple of friends who would probably like to take you on."  
  
Michael chuckled and walked over to the window. He played with the lace that kept his pants from falling to his knees. "Maybe later. After you have had a nap, perhaps we can search them out and..." Michael gave the girl a lascivious look and, all but purred.  
  
The girl tossed her head and laughed. "Like I need a nap."  
  
Michael turned toward the girl and jumped on top of her. The chair she was sitting in, fell back into a reclined position and she gasped. "I like the way you start sentences with the word like." Michael nuzzled the girl's ear and bit the lobe.  
  
The blonde gasped and squirmed. "You're ready to go, again? You just... oh!"  
  
Michael licked the girl's neck and chuckled. "Did I find a sweet spot?"  
  
"No. I mean, yes, but... There is a guy standing at the door. I can see him in my vanity mirror." The girl pulled Michael's head up away from her neck.  
  
Michael scoffed at the gesture and looked over the chair, at the doorway. "Tim. Hello." Michael gave the boy a grin and waved him closer. "Join the fun? She's really easy and quite drunk."  
  
The girl bucked frantically and took a swing at Michael's face. "Asshole!"  
  
Michael leaned back, before the girl could connect with his face, and chuckled. "Maybe not so drunk as earlier, but she was pretty sloshed when I met her an hour ago."  
  
"An hour ago? You've grown pretty easy yourself there, friend." Tim put his hand out for Michael to take, so he could help him up from the girl's lap. "Come on. We've got to talk."  
  
Michael quirked an eyebrow and looked at the proffered hand. "You want to talk? It's been a while since you wanted to do that." He took the offer and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet. "Where the devil is my shirt?"  
  
The girl swiveled her chair and rested her elbows on her knees. She was dressed in little more than a strip of lace and she didn't seem too concerned about it. "The shirt is next to the bureau, where you threw it. Are you leaving already?"   
  
Michael pulled his shirt over his chest and straightened it down his torso. "I got what I came for, darling." He slipped on his sandals that he had been wearing and blew the girl a kiss, as he headed out the door after his friend. The girl's shriek reached them out in the hallway.   
  
"You might want to duck." Tim chuckled, as a blunt object flew past his head.  
  
The videotape had narrowly missed Michael's head. He knew from experience that if Tim told you to do something, it was wise to follow the order. He looked up at his friend and back at the woman, who stood in the doorway. The girl slipped back into her apartment and slammed the door shut. "You humans are so very touchy."  
  
Tim shrugged and helped the 'boy' to his feet. "You made her feel like a whore instead of a lover. She knew you both would never meet again, but she still wanted to feel... cherished."  
  
Michael looked confused by this, but said nothing. Instead he just peered into his friend's eyes and shook his head.  
  
"What?" Tim asked, in frustration.  
  
"You will never forgive me, will you?" Michael's face had drawn into a tight expression.  
  
Tim knew that a lot was probably riding on the way he answered this question. He decided to just stall, while he figured out the best way to do that. "Want a beer?"  
  
Michael knew what the young man was doing, but ignored it. "Who's buying?"   
  
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~   
  
The bar was like any other skanky dive, in the area, but Michael decided it was acceptable.   
  
Tim shivered when he felt eyes crawl along his back. "Somebody is staring at me. I'm not sure I feel comfortable here."  
  
Michael turned and nodded at the man in the corner of the bar, cloaked by the darkness. "Aithníonn ciaróg ciaróg eile. There are so many that possess the gift, nowadays. He must feel your mind." Michael watched his friend closely and sighed. "The fact that I could kill the man with a thought doesn't seem to settle your mind any. Would you like to leave?"  
  
Tim shook his head and took a seat at the bar. "No. Let's get our drinks."  
  
The bartender saw his new patrons and smirked. "You boys are a little young to be buying drinks, aren't you? How old are you boys?"  
  
"Chomh sean leis an cheo agus níos sine faoi dhó." Michael crossed his arms across his chest and stared at the man, indignantly.  
  
The bartender snorted and shook his head. He didn't like to admit he didn't know what was being said to him, because it would make him out as ignorant, but he really wanted to know what the kid had been talking about. He waved his beefy palm at Michael and directed his question at the blonde boy. "What was that about?"  
  
Tim bit his lip and shook his head. "What he means to say is that he is older than you would expect. He ages really well, that is."  
  
Michael leaned forward on his stool and pointed at a Guinness. "I'll pay you twice what each swig is worth and still drink you under the table."  
  
The bartender gave the young man a beer and grunted. "I don't drink 'em. I just serve 'em."  
  
Michael grinned widely. "Then, do your civic duty and serve, my good fellow."  
  
The bartender grunted again and turned to Tim. "What'll you have?"  
  
Tim shrugged. "Screwdriver? More orange juice, than vodka. Capice?"  
  
The bartender walked away mumbling about kids and their 'damn slang terms'.  
  
Michael chuckled and knocked back his beer. "What's troubling you, friend?" He put his beer down on the counter and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.   
  
"Did you kill that young woman that they were talking about on the radio?" Tim looked Michael in the eyes and tried to feel what he was feeling; see what he was thinking.   
  
"Did I invite you into my mind? That is sort of rude barging in there like that, don't you think? Damn all of you empaths and telepaths." Michael took another drink and hissed, when he felt another nudge in his mind. He mentally threw the boy out of his mind, which was about the equivalent of a mental ass kicking. "Is leor nod don eolach."  
  
Tim slumped back in his seat and groaned. He rubbed his temples and tried to shake off the pain. "I'm sorry, but you didn't seemed inclined to answer me."  
  
"I wasn't given the chance to answer. Coimhéad fearg fhear na foighde." Michael turned in his chair and stared at the television that was set up in the corner of the room.   
  
"You never were very patient, though." Tim rubbed the tension knots that were forming in the back of his neck and winced.  
  
"I've been around since the continents were joined, and you presume to tell me that I've never been patient?" Michael took another drink and gripped the bottle, until his knuckles turned white.   
  
  
  
"Why did you want to befriend me? I'm little more than a kid, and I don't know what is what, half of the time." Tim brushed his hair out of his eyes. "That guy is still watching me, isn't he?"  
  
"Yes. I'm about to show him how I feel about that." Michael held up his bottle, by the rim, and slammed the bottom against the bar. He held up the broken bottle and grinned at the shards that stuck in his palm. "Pain is lovely."  
  
Tim grimaced, as he looked at his friend's bloody hand. "I beg to differ."  
  
"This body registers pain as pleasure. It's almost glorious." Michael turned sparkling eyes to the blonde man next to him. "Want to take a swing at me?"  
  
Tim almost laughed at the absurdity of the situation. "You want me to hit you?"  
  
"More to the point, I want you to break my nose." Michael leaned into his friend and chuckled. "Lets start a brawl." He breathed huskily. Michael realized Tim's uneasiness and leaned back, with a shrug. "Well, if you won't help me, I want you to stand back."  
  
"Michael, don't star... Oh, shit!"   
  
Michael pulled back his arm and threw the broken bottle at the man in the corner. The bottle hit the man's windpipe and blood squirted from the wound, around the glass. The man grabbed at his throat and gurgled a protest, before slumping forward and passing out, from the pain. Michael stood and walked over to the bloody. He kicked the head a couple of times and sighed. "Too easy. He passed out before he could feel his death."   
  
The room had cleared out, except for a few patrons who were frozen in fear, and the bartender. The bartender grunted and sniffed, from behind the counter. "I knew you were trouble!" The burly man reached down and picked up a shotgun, from underneath the ledge. He had it hidden there for if an emergency came up and he was pretty sure that this constituted as an emergency. He aimed it at Michael's head and whistled low and deep.  
  
Tim dove over the counter when he registered what was happening. He pressed his back against the counter and prayed to whoever's god, that something would stop this violence. His eye's squeezed shut and he gasped when he heard the shot ring out.   
  
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~   
  
~*~ "Cad is ainm duit?" The boy is so long and lean. He looks like a runner, and he feels like a person I can trust.  
  
"Tim. How do you know Gaelic?"  
  
"Tá áthas orm bualadh leat. How do you know Gaelic?" He has floppy gold hair that resembls the sun during the Spring. His eyes are like the sky. He is nice to look at, at least.  
  
"I learned from my grandmother. She was a grandchild of a Celt."  
  
"She was a witch?" It would make sense. The Celts were pagans, who practiced the art of death. This beautiful creature could only be born of another's death and suffering.  
  
"She... was. How did you know?"  
  
Too long of a story. You'll know soon enough, anyhow. "Would you be my..." What is the English word?   
  
"What is the Gaelic word? I can help you translate."  
  
My mental block wasn't up and he doesn't even realize he's read my mind. He would probably be embarrassed, if he knew. I'll let it go. "Cara."  
  
"Oh! You want to be friends?"  
  
Friends? It sounds nice. Yes, friends would be good. "What would I have to do to be your friend?"   
  
"Nothing. I don't have qualifications. Just don't shun my lil' sis if I let her hang around, okay? That really bugs me. You have any brother's or sisters?"  
  
That's all? I could be nice to a human child. "No. I am alone." More alone than you would understand... friend. ~*~  
  
Connor mentally sighed, as these images wracked his brain. Who was this boy, Tim? Who's memories were these?  
  
Why couldn't he remain friends with Tim? They had been so close for so long. The girl had been the only one to stand in between their happiness! She had to get ill, that weekend. If she had just stayed inside during that thunderstorm, he could have spent a few more days with his friend, without interruption. The change would have taken place and they would have been able to remain close.  
  
What was he thinking? Who the hell was Tim and why the hell did it matter that he would never be able to...What type of relationship was this, anyway? Shit. He had to get out of this darkness. This prison was driving him insane. He was inventing storylines, and he was pretty sure he could taste blood.  
  
If only he weren't so old, he could understand the sanctity of living things. He had seen so much death that the living held no wonder any longer. It was nothing special to be alive. All things lived, until they died. Neither really made much difference in the long run. Souls and spirits lived on and on. Bodies were mere dirt. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust? What would it be like to be dust of the earth? Or was it salt of the earth? No, that was a cewrain group who were made of salt... Why were humans so confusing?   
  
Holy mother of Spike! God damn this all to Hell! What in heaven's name was going on in his head? Was he alive? He damn well couldn't feel his toes, but for some reason he felt his heartbeat. It wasn't a physical feeling, so much as a mental feeling that it was still going, but... Nothing made sense! Why...  
  
"Damn it, boy, shut up! I will let you free when I get what I came for."  
  
Connor would have cringed if he were capable. Who is that?  
  
"It's God, you stupid fuck. Now, shut up."  
  
Wow, Connor thought confusedly, When had God started using the 'f' word?  
  
TBC  
  
-Hmm... The evil people will be confiscating my DSL, for the time being, but I'll still try to find ways to post. I'm crafty like that. Anyway, please review.-  
  
--The subtitle was Night in the City by ELO--  
  
---Gaelic translations---  
  
Aithníonn ciaróg ciaróg eile- A beatle recognises another beatle   
  
Chomh sean leis an cheo agus níos sine faoi dhó- As old as the mist and older by two   
  
Is leor nod don eolach- A hint is sufficient for the wise   
  
Coimhéad fearg fhear na foighde- Beware of the anger of a patient man.   
  
Cad is ainm duit?- What is your name?  
  
Tá áthas orm bualadh leat- Nice to meet you. 


	12. Time to Pray

WARNING- This chapter contains a slight slashy feel, so if you don't want to read that, then don't. It's not true slash, by any means, but it is teetering the edge and I know that there are some younger and/or more conservative readers (What the heck are you doing reading vampire stories? Geez!) that may be offended. Don't be alarmed (and please don't cry), because it's not a main character or anything...   
  
I don't own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Angel the Series. Alas... I don't own any of the characters or their extremely cool wardrobes. I am a schmuck on most accounts and Joss is merely a schlimazel. So, there ya' go... Now, I would like to take this opportunity to thank everybody who ever reviewed for me and whoever will review in the future and I would also like to get...  
  
On with the show.  
  
::Stuff and Nonsense- Time To Pray::   
  
"Do you smell the kid, yet?" Spike bent over and brushed some dirt off the toe of his boot. "All I smell is crack cocaine and some frump, down the road scoring a John."  
  
Doyle scoffed and shook his head. "Wow, I just want to thank you for that mental image. I really appreciate that little piece of skank."  
  
Spike leaned up and gave his sire a disgruntled look. "Why did we bring him? Can he make things explode with his mind, or serve any other helpful purpose?"  
  
Angel held back a smirk and shrugged. "He serves as a good shield."  
  
Doyle chuckled and punched Angel on the shoulder. "Hey! I resemble that remark, thank you very much."  
  
Spike poked out his bottom lip and sniffed. "I could use a shield and maybe a cape, for good measure." Spike quirked a brow at the Irishman and grinned. "Can you sew?"  
  
"Perhaps." Doyle scowled. "Can you... bite my ass?"  
  
Spike flashed his fangs and growled. "Perhaps."  
  
Angel stopped walking and turned back toward the two men. He almost let out a laugh, when he realized both were in their demonic visages. "Let me ask one question. Is this saving my son?"  
  
Spike fell out of game face and shrugged, before turning and walking past his sire. "You're lucky I love that kid, ya' bleedin' Mick."  
  
Angel watched Doyle's features smooth out and smiled. "He's temperamental, but..." Angel made a fist and patted his chest with it. "...he's got a good heart." Angel glanced over his shoulder and caught a glimpse of Spike picking up an alley cat, by the scruff of the neck, and tossing it in a dumpster, before stomping out of the alley. "At least, he tries... sometimes."  
  
"I dunno' why you keep him around. He's just a immortal teenager." Doyle grunted. "With damaged hair and an attitude problem."  
  
Angel scrunched up his nose and shrugged. "He kind of makes me feel young again... without the whoring and drinking."  
  
Doyle rolled his eyes and shook his head. "So, you keep him around because he makes you feel young?"  
  
Angel scowled. "He's my childe. I keep him around because he is family. Plus, like he said, he loves Connor. Why are you so against him?"  
  
Doyle shrugged and changed the subject. "Let's find your son."  
  
Angel and Doyle walked in silence, in the direction Spike had taken. They turned the corner and found something unexpected. "Spike!"   
  
Spike had Tim pinned against the wall of the building and was sniffing him, thoroughly, while growling low in his throat.  
  
Doyle scrunched up his nose. "That's kind of an odd picture."  
  
Angel dropped his head back and sniffed the air. He knew what Spike smelled and it made his dead blood boil. He flashed demon eyes at the boy and growled. "Where is my son?" He stomped toward the boy and pushed Spike back a half a step. His childe refused to let his prey go, without a fight.  
  
"Why is his blood all over you? You reek of Connor's blood!" Spike all but howled.   
  
Tim eyes were drooping and he gasped a little bit. "Michael wanted to start a... riot." Tim's eyes shut and he wheezed. Spike cinched the boy's shirt tighter in his palm and growled, once more. Tim gasped and grabbed at his throat. "My lungs..." He gargled and trembled in Spike's grip.  
  
Spike looked the boy over and sniffed again. There was no other blood. He dropped the boy to his feet and lifted his shirt. The boy was sweat slick and trembled fiercely, but otherwise he seemed to be unharmed. "Your lungs are bloody fine."  
  
Tim shook his head, emphatically, as he gasped. "Michael... the link... shot in... chest." Tim choked and coughed up some mucous filled blood. "He's... in pain, therefore I'm in pain."  
  
Doyle scoffed. "He's in all this pain, and he still uses words like therefore?"  
  
Spike ignored the stupid comment, that Doyle just had to make, and asked a question of his own. "And that's bad why?" Spike grunted, as he watched the boy fall to his knees. If this was all true, and it wasn't Tim's fault Connor was gone, then it was very inhumane to leave him out in the cold. Spike leaned down and offered the boy a hand.  
  
Tim took the hand and sighed, before passing out cold. He fell sideways and hit the ground, with a thunk. Spike took a step back, in shock. The kid looked pretty dead to him, and Spike knew what dead looked like.  
  
Angel shook his head and sighed. The boy was a victim, not a criminal. He leaned down and picked the boy up, draping him over his shoulder and walking toward the nearest place that was open this late at night. He stepped inside the smoked filled bar and called out for some help. A man with a rifle took a step out of the back room and grunted. "My friend needs some help. I need to use your phone." Angel laid the boy down on the bar and walked toward the man.  
  
The man scowled and shook his head. "I know that kid and he ain't welcome in my bar. He's responsible for bringing that murderer in here."   
  
Spike smirked at the bartender and answered snarkily. "Well, looks like he's on a roll, cause he's just brought three more murderin' types into your lovely establishment, and he isn't even awake to realize it." Spike vamped out and hissed at the man.  
  
The man shrugged. "I have demons come in here all the time. 's not like it's anything new to me. Now, get the kid offa' my bar and outta' here."  
  
Spike shook his head in feigned sadness and bit his lip, with sharpened canines. "Was that a command? Cause if it was, I just want you to know that my friend here..." Spike pointed a thumb at Doyle. "...he doesn't react well to commands."  
  
The man crossed his meaty arms across his chest and grunted. "He doesn't, does he? What's he gonna do about it?"  
  
Doyle leaned into Spike's side and whispered harshly. "Yeah Spike, what am I going to do about it?"  
  
Spike grinned at the confused Irishman. "You'd be surprised what he can do about it. Doesn't look like much now, but I'll tell you what... He's something to behold when he vamps out!"  
  
"Vampires don't scare me none." The man took a few steps toward the men and sniffed.   
  
While the bartender was establishing his power and manhood, Angel had slipped into the back room and found a phone. He dialed a familiar number and sighed when the other line was picked up. "I'm at MLK and fifth. I need you down here, now!" He hung up the phone and walked back into the room, where he found the bartender retching into a bucket behind the counter.  
  
The man wiped his mouth with the back of a beefy palm. "He does got a disease! Get him out of here or I'm calling the cops! Or maybe a priest!"  
  
Doyle frowned and shifted back into his human face. "I'm gonna' hurt you for that." He muttered, as they walked back outside and onto the street.  
  
"We gave Angel enough time and a good enough distraction to get him to the phone and not get anyone killed. Plus, I got to poke fun at your horny face. All in all, I say that we did quite well." Spike grinned at the Irishman. "Horny face..." He chuckled, in a juvenile fashion and shook his head. "I crack meself up."   
  
Doyle rolled his eyes and gave into the laughter. He looked back at the older vampire and the boy, who was draped nonchalantly over in his arms. The kid looked like a rag doll. "Did you get to the phone?"  
  
Angel nodded and looked down the road. "We'll have help soon." He looked at the pallid face that lay against his shoulder and sighed. "Hopefully it will be soon enough."   
  
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~   
  
Michael grunted in pain and grasped at the bed sheet, he was laying on. The white linens where slowly turning red and then brown.   
  
"Now, why would you go and do a thing like that, back at the bar?" The voice was lilting, but there was no accent to speak of. It was musical, but it burned his ears.  
  
  
  
"I wanted to have a fun night out with a friend. What's so wrong about that?" Michael grabbed his chest and almost heaved.  
  
"Quit touching your chest. I have it healing, but I decided to do it slowly, so you can learn a lesson from all of this nastiness."  
  
"Very few out there that can heal a punctured lung. Who are you?"  
  
The man laughed and shook his head. "I thought you had an idea of who I was. When you threw that broken bottle into my windpipe, I was positive you knew." There was a sigh in the voice. "You always were a bastard, even without a body. If not for you, the Druids would still be around."  
  
"And that's good?" Michael groaned, when he tried to sit up and look at the man."  
  
"Not necessarily. They worshipped you and you betrayed them, that is all." The voice was thoughtful.   
  
"They sacrificed children to me." Michael laughed and then gasped. "Damn it."  
  
"You are pulling more human characteristics out of these people. You will soon be human enough to feel remorse, if you don't watch it."  
  
Michael almost growled. "Better than being in the wind, the trees, and the water. It's nice to be able to make something happen, with your own two hands"   
  
"With somebody else's two hands, you mean." The man's voice had gotten closer.  
  
Michael briefly realized that he didn't hear any footsteps, when the man would walk, then he felt a searing pain within his mind and howled.  
  
"He's trying to take the body back over, isn't he? You made a mistake in choosing this body. The Powers had some plans for this boy. You haven't ruined them, as of yet. The boy is strong, but you almost killed him." The man grabbed a hold of Michael's hair and yanked him up roughly. "We can't have that."  
  
Michael winced and tried to shake the man off, but he was too weak, physically. He had obviously lost too much blood, when that gunshot had sailed clear through his chest. "I want to keep this body for a while longer. It has a hint of evil to it, without being overly done." Michael gasped when he opened his eyes, and saw empty eyes staring back at him. The eyes were there, but they weren't... holding anything. No soul, no spirit, no life...   
  
"You are starting to understand? This body is just a vessel."  
  
Michael took a moment to look the body over. The face was attractive from top lip to brow, but the bottom half of the face was covered in what seemed to be a veil of sorts. A mask, he concluded, masks were manlier. There was no mistaking the masculinity in this body, either. It had to have been a ninja in some other lifetime, or a big jungle cat. "What is this? What are you trying to prove?"  
  
Slowly the eyes widened and took on a softer shape. The hair started to grow and became full and long. The body became smaller in form and rounded in all of the right places. The mask fell away and revealed a face that made Michael's heart catch. "I'm trying to offer you a gift, in exchange for the boy." The woman's voice was soft and convincing; in only the way a woman could make it. "This body is a shape shifter's. There are very few left in the world. Another additive is that, it won't age, because... Well, mostly because you are unaging and you are running it. It's vacant and we would like to give it to you, in exchange for..." The woman poked Michael's chest and tittered.  
  
Michael scowled and bit his lip. "What's the catch?"  
  
The woman giggled and shook her head. Her hair shook over her shoulders and almost seemed to glitter around her head. "Cynical too?" She gave Michael a smile, but something was off.  
  
The eyes! Michael realized that the smile hadn't reached her eyes, and her eyes were still dead.  
  
The woman smirked. "It's left to you to fill them up. Take this body as a gift, and all you have to do is... leave."  
  
"Leave where?" Michael arched a brow and waited.  
  
The woman started to morph once more. The hair became shorter and blonde and the face and body shaped into a familiar form.   
  
Michael gasped and shook his head. It was Tim. In every way shape and form, it was Tim. All but the eyes.  
  
The boy grinned, sweetly. "Leave Connor. Leave California. Leave the mass population, if you will. We have plans for this area." The young man draped himself over Michael, forcing the boy to lay back. His knees where on both sides of Michael's hips, pinning him in place and his hands rested on the boy's wrists, down at his sides. There faces were mere inches apart. "Do you want this body? You can have it, you know?" He moved just slightly, causing the boy under him to gasp.   
  
Michael groaned and dropped his head back. "I thought temptation was the devil's work." He stated ruefully.  
  
Tim's hand grabbed the back of Michael's head and pulled it forward, until their noses touched. "Well, let me ask you something. What would Jesus do?"  
  
Michael arched a brow and grinned. This had to be a joke. "Turn you down."  
  
The young man grinned and nodded, slowly. "True. I know something that helps, though. You sure as hell aren't Jesus."  
  
Michael thought for a moment and looked the body over, as much as he could from his precariously prone position. "So, can this body do any more tricks?"  
  
The man sat up a little and grinned, maliciously. He bounced up and down and chuckled when the boy beneath the onslaught, swatted at him. "Would you like to try it out?"  
  
TBC  
  
-Okay, lets not throw stones people, cause I'll feel inclined to haul 'em right back atcha'. I know what I'm doing... *looks unsure* Ahh... Please review. I need my ego stroked or I'll just kill 'em all. Not a threat, mind you. It would just be delightfully fun. I mean, why not, if nobody is reading the story?-  
  
--The subtitle was Time to Pray, which is a song by Reverend Horton Heat, mostly because after that whole WWJD comment I feel like I better.-- 


	13. Shakedown

I don't own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Angel: the Series. I am looking forward to buying them, so I can own them to a certain extent, but for now my old taped versions off of FX, will have to do. I don't own Spike, Angel, Lorne, Doyle, Gunn, Connor, Cordelia, or Fred. I do, however, own Michael, Tim, Skittles, and a small prayer box that I keep their auras in, around my neck. Hehe... Joss is the Desperado to my El Mariachi. Obviously, there is no comparison. I want to dedicate this story to everybody who has actually been reviewing. I love you all! That being said, and this being read, I think it is wise if I get...  
  
On with the show.  
  
::Stuff and Nonsense- Shakedown::  
  
"I don't know what to tell you Angel cakes. The boy is definitely down for the count." Lorne stroked the boy's hair away from his closed eyes and sighed. "What made him go all comatose, on you?"  
  
Spike grunted. "He was magically shot in the chest." He threw himself back on the couch and sighed. "I haven't slept in two days straight. If I don't kill a baddie soon, I'm going to kill the Mick."  
  
Lorne threw a look at the peroxide blonde and sniffed. "What did he do to you?"  
  
"He breathed in my oxygen." Spike kicked his legs up over the side of the couch and let them dangle over the armrest.  
  
"You don't breathe, Spike." Angel reminded his childe, absentmindedly.  
  
"You don't get laid, but you still get mad at me for wankin' in your shower." Spike grinned impishly and chuckled.  
  
"That was lewd, crude, and had nothing to do with anything we were just discussing." Angel gave Lorne a pleading look and the green demon sighed.  
  
"Spike can you take a nap or something? I have to concentrate on this spell that the furies gave me.  
  
Spike pushed himself up on his elbows and scowled at Lorne. "Furries? Those damn costumed perverts, with their effin conventions?" Spike grunted and lay back, once more. "Fuckin' Bambi and Flower getting' it on next to a Marvel comic book station. Ugh..."   
  
Lorne laughed. "Said the vampire who whacks off in his 'Sire's' shower. The furies Spike... Lovely ladies with melodic voices and lots of majicks." Lorne looked back own at his paper and sighed. "Their handwriting is kinda scratchy, though. You would think that never changing beings, could make an exception, as long as it was for their own betterment."  
  
"Just try to decipher it as best as you can." Angel coaxed the demon.  
  
Lorne grinned at the vampire. "Watch it Angel. You're two steps away from coddling the kid and taking him on as another son."  
  
Angel rolled his eyes and smiled softly. "I'm just trying to help the helpless, Lorne. It's on my calling card."  
  
Lorne nodded. "All right, then. God, I wish I could read this." Lorne took a deep breath and sighed. "Ni heolas go haontios."  
  
Angel perked up and shook his head. "It's Gaelic. It means that there is no knowledge without unity. It pretty much means that you don't know what a person or a group of people are like, until you live with and become as one of them." Angel sat back and thought about it. "Is this about Michael, do you think? Are the furies trying to make us understand him, or something?"  
  
Lorne gasped, when he felt the head under his hand turn. He looked down and found a pair of glassy blue eyes staring back at him. "Hello."  
  
"They're warning you about Michael. He has unified himself with humans and he has picked up some of their good qualities, as well as their bad ones. He knows how to get in our heads, as well as our bodies." Tim moved his hand over and grabbed Lorne's wrist, weakly. "Don't stop."  
  
Lorne smiled at the boy and shook his head. The boy was in need of some affection, obviously. He pet the boy's hair softly and directed some ideas at Angel. "What we need to do is separate the boy's soul from the spirit."  
  
Tim sighed and shook his head. "If it was possible, don't you think I would have accomplished it by now?"   
  
Lorne looked down at the boy seriously and shrugged. "Do you really want to have your soul unmingled?"  
  
Tim frowned. "Why wouldn't I? I could be my own person and take care of Kelsey, without him always tugging my mind away from my work. I could watch a movie without feeling his presence in my mind. I could..." Tim frowned.  
  
"Have a chance to feel lonely?" Angel asked, thoughtfully.  
  
Tim looked away from the vampire and over at Spike, who rested soundly on the couch. "You have someone who shares your hungers and your blood. Your auras aren't mingled, but you have a connection that is close to as deep, as what I feel." Tim sighed. "If Spike were killed, or he had something done to keep your links closed permanently... Wouldn't you feel lonely?" Tim looked back at the older vampire.  
  
Angel leaned down toward the boy and fluffed his pillow, slightly. "I would feel, hurt. I would feel like I had lost something special to me." Angel looked up at his childe and smiled. "I would feel the way I felt, when I realized your friend had possessed my son and taken him away from me." Angel looked back at the boy, pulled out a handkerchief, and handed it to him.   
  
Tim dabbed his eyes and looked over at Spike. He smiled and shook his head. Spike had been awake, the whole time.  
  
Spike had tried not to let the others know he was awake, during the conversation. It was pretty nice to hear that somebody cared whether he lived or died, allegorically speaking, especially after his hell of a life in Sunnydale. Buffy didn't care whether he could walk, as long as he could get her off. Xander didn't care if he were beat black and blue, as long as he didn't touch his darling Anya, whom he just happened to leave at the alter. Spike still couldn't get over that little fiasco. It was amazing the way that he lived through World Wars and major Depressions, and the hardest times he could think of were all related to Buffy and Sunnydale.  
  
"I know that you are awake, Spike." Angel chuckled. "Your blood is almost pumping, you're so agitated. What's going on?"  
  
"Just thinking about Connor, is all." Spike turned toward the couch back and shrugged. "I'll try to go back to sleep and leave you Chatty Cathy's to it."  
  
Angel stared at his childe's back and shrugged. "So, where are we as far as deciding on the soul mingling?"  
  
Tim pushed himself up to a sitting position and sighed. Lorne scooted back on the carpet, to give the boy some room to breathe. There was comforting and then there was crowding, and luckily Lorne knew the difference. Tim thanked Lorne, telepathically, and the demon smiled. "Well, I suppose I better just get used to the idea of being in here, by myself." Tim slumped and shook his head. "Michael is going to be pissed, though." Tim frowned. "Pissed enough to come looking for us."  
  
Angel smiled and nodded. "Just what I was counting on."  
  
  
  
~ * ~* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~  
  
Connor felt like he was waking up from a bad dream. His chest ached and he felt like he had been running a marathon. After a few moments of groaning, he realized, all at once, that he could feel and no matter how crappy he did feel, feeling was definitely a good thing. Connor tried to push his mind away from the crazy and embrace his new liberty. He did the only thing he could think to do that would insure that he was truly free from bondage. He opened his eyes.   
  
Color and light flooded his senses. The colors were faded and the lights were dim, but to Connor they were beautiful. They meant that he could see, again.   
  
"Hel... hello?" Connor cleared his throat and groaned, once more. His throat was achy and dry. "Hello?" He called out, a little bit louder. Apparently, no body was nearby or they would have answered.   
  
Connor moved his fingers and smiled. 'Houston, we have movement.' Connor felt the area around him and sighed. He was lying in a bed. The bed wasn't as soft as he would have liked, and the sheets seemed to feel pretty gritty, but it was better than waking up in a corner in God knows where.   
  
Connor took the opportunity to sit up and assess his situation. His head swam and he took a deep breath and closed his eyes, until the dizziness passed. Connor opened his eyes once more and looked down at his body. 'All right. I appear to be naked.' Connor lifted the covers that were draped around his lower body. 'No, that appears to be a negative. I'm wearing pants.' Connor smirked, ruefully. 'At least, I have that going for me.'   
  
Connor pushed the covers off of his legs and sighed, before swinging his legs  
  
over the side of the bed. He took a deep breath and attempted to stand on his  
  
own two feet. He was mildly disappointed, when his legs refused to hold him up.  
  
Connor shook his head and grunted.  
  
He looked around the room and mental made some more assumptions. 'I'm in an abandoned hotel room. I've been kidnapped. I've been drugged, obviously. I've possibly been... used.' Connor shivered at that thought. He shifted uncomfortably and tried to feel if he was misused, in any way. He shook his head, when he decided that it was unlikely. The only things that ached were his chest and his throat. Connor frowned, and decided he needed to look in a mirror immediately.  
  
He fought against the weakened legs and made himself stand. After a few faltering steps, he made his way to the bathroom and looked in the mirror. He was shocked when he saw the shadows under his eyes and the way his cheekbones had hollowed out. It was only a slight change, but it was enough to bother him. After he had decided that he had inspected his face for long enough, he took a good look at his chest.   
  
He gasped when he saw that there was a scar over his left pectoral that had not been there before. He touched the scar and winced. He had seen enough wounds to know what it was. He had been shot. 'How did it heal? How long have I been out of it?' Connor opened his mouth and looked at the back of his throat. It was red and swollen, but there was no damage, as far as he could tell. It looked like something had quite literally crawled out of his body, through his mouth, though.  
  
Connor shook his head softly and looked around the sink. He found some toothpaste and Listerine, as well as some complimentary soap. He decided to wash up real fast and find his shirt, before heading out to find his father. Angel was probably out looking for him and he didn't want him to worry, overly much.  
  
It had been dumb of him to go after that demon, he realized. He had put Gunn and Wes in danger, by underestimating the power of the monster. He would never do that again, he mentally vowed, as he scrubbed his bicuspids with a toothbrush. 'Next time, I'll take bigger armaments and leave the humans at home.' Connor thought with a weak smile.  
  
~ * ~* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~  
  
Michael was astonished. For the first time in his entire existence something truly puzzled him. The physical make up of his body, was amazing. He could become a woman with merely a thought. He could make his fingernails longer or shorter, depending on his preference. His hair could be in a bob or a cute little shag job. He could be a man, with bulging muscles, or a little studious computer nerd, who looks beautiful the moment he takes those damned glasses off of the bridge of his nose.  
  
Michael grinned and felt his teeth with his tongue. The incisors grew and he knew for a fact that he looked like a certain dark hair, dark eyed vampire. Also, what was the deal with the clothing? How could clothing just... appear? It didn't make sense. It was cool as all get out, but it still didn't make sense.   
  
Michael ran his fingers through his hair and looked in the mirror. His hair changed colors, until it made the perfect shade of brown, and his eyes mixed until they were almond shaped and hazel. Michael smiled and watched his lips become fuller and his teeth less angular. He ran his fingers down his body and felt his chest take shape. "This is amazing." His voice would even change to fit the person he portrayed. "I love magic."  
  
There was a knock at the door and Michael winced. He wondered if he should bother to change into a more manly form, or to just go ahead and walk his slight and feminine frame to the door. The fact that he was naked was no matter, of course. He just wanted to be prepared for whatever type of company decided to stop by. Michael decided to try to be as misleading as possible and he morphed into the body of a small woman. It would be impossible to guess the age he was portraying, but he decided to spruce up the experience a little. Before he knew it, he was wearing a pair of spike heals and a short black dress, cut too low for his new shapely figure.   
  
He walked to the door and sighed, before opening it. "Hello?"  
  
A large man, with a rough shaven face stood in the doorway and look Michael up and down. "What's your name, little lady?"  
  
Michael looked down at his form and grinned. "Little lady?" He giggled and shook his head. "Micah. I'm named after a man in the Bible."  
  
"I bet he didn't dress as pretty as you do." The man flirted, shamelessly.  
  
'Micah' grinned and shrugged 'her' small shoulders. "I bet he didn't do a lot of things that I do so well." Micah leaned against her doorframe and sighed. "Is there something wrong?"  
  
The man looked confused for a moment and shook his head. "Why would there be?"  
  
"You knocked on my door." Micah smiled, sweetly. "I don't think you are here to borrow a cup of sugar, now are you?"  
  
The man grinned widely. "No ma'am. I just heard that someone had moved in here, recently and I wanted to meet the new neighbor."  
  
Micah stood up on her tiptoes and brushed her nose against the man's chin. "How about you come in here and get familiar with the new neighbor?"  
  
The man's jaw dropped and he stuttered for just a moment. "B... bu... but I have a wife just down the hallway."  
  
Micah dropped down to her feet and shrugged. She turned around and walked into the middle of the apartment, leaving the man in the doorway staring after her. She had her back to him, when she started unpinning her dress. She heard the man gasp and then, the door shut. She turned to find the man standing inside the doorway and she smiled, knowingly. Micah nodded and took a few steps toward the bathroom. "Now, don't you go anywhere. I will just be a minute."  
  
The man shook his head and tried to adjust himself, inconspicuously. "I'm not going anywhere."  
  
Micah walked into the bathroom and closed the door behind her. She looked in the mirror and sighed. "This could be fun." Micah ran her fingers through her hair and slipped her dress off of her shoulders. It fell to the floor and disappeared. "Interesting." She thought out loud. Micah ran her fingers down her ribs and watched as she became taller and broader. Less feminine, more masculine. Male, not female. Michael grinned into the mirror and realized that there was no longer any reflection. He looked over at the tub and smiled. "This could be very interesting. Don't you think, darling?"  
  
The girl's dead eyes stared back at Michael, as he nodded his head. "I thought you might say something like that, you stupid whore. You should have never hefted that video at my head." Michael walked over to the cold body and pet the long blonde hair. "Now, I have to kill your neighbor and it's all your fault. How do you like that, bitch?" Michael leaned down and licked up the dry blood, around the edges of the girl's mouth. He took out the ball gag that he had placed there earlier and kissed her softly. "I don't think we need this anymore, do you? No, play times over between us."   
  
Michael straightened up and ran his hand over the hair that he instinctively knew was bleached blonde. "I have a new puppy, now." Michael laughed and paused just long enough to think up a pair of tight black pants. "Don't want to distress the man too much, now do we?" Michael chuckled again and headed into the bedroom, with a new song in his heart.  
  
TBC  
  
-Thank you for reviewing, if you did. If you didn't, shame on you and review this time! Okay, now I got you two chapters out in less than four days! Gimme a treat people! I really don't have all this free time on my hands, so I want to know if you like what I'm writing, or if it's just crap. Review whether it sucked or not. I just like to know if it's being read.-  
  
--The subtitle was Shakedown, which is a song by a local band that I know named Mister Grits. They really are talented and cute to boot.-- 


	14. Michael

I don't own Angel the Series or Buffy the Vampire Slayer, but I sure am sad that they are finished up. Joss is in control and what he says goes. I'm just a fan like anybody else... except I'm going to kidnap James Marsters and make him my sex slave. How many of you can claim that? Okay, it's been a while since I updated and I apologize. I hope you haven't completely lost interest in the story. I've just been busy. I'll go into more detail at the end, but for now lets get...  
  
On with the show.  
  
::Stuff and Nonsense- Michael::   
  
Michael dropped down on top of the man's chest and collapsed. His heart had gripped in his chest and he felt a burning in his mind. "Ahh..." Michael writhed in pain and a few tears streaked down his cheeks. The man underneath him was stone still. He wasn't dead yet, but he was a good imitation. "Holy Powers!" Michael gripped the sides of his head and sighed. The pain was easing up, but something was different.  
  
Michael took a deep breath and realized he was still lying on the neighbor, from down the hall. He grunted and pushed himself up to a sitting position. "Why in the hell are you still here?" Michael looked down at his hands and grunted. They were covered in blood. "Ugh... That's very distasteful." Michael stood up and looked down at the body, at his feet. It was breathing slightly and he shook his head. "You poor bastard." Michael looked at his hands and sighed.   
  
He walked to the bathroom and washed his hands, before walking to the phone and calling 911. "Hello. Yes, my name is Andre Mason, and I walked in on the scene of a murder. Yes, I'm in apartment 46A, at Maspeth Place, on 1457 Andes Dr. There seems to be somebody else here. He is close to death, as well. You may need to send an ambulance and a hearse." Michael sighed. "The murderer? No, I didn't see who did it." Michael nodded and smirked. "Yes, I'll stay here."  
  
Michael put the phone down and cracked his knuckles. He shook his head and threw his hands up in the air. "Okay, Tim, you want to fight dirty? We'll fight dirty." Michael walked over to the bed and picked up a locket that lay over to the side. He turned toward the door, and morphed into the body of a small child, before making a dash into the hallway and running toward the stairs.  
------------  
Connor ran his fingers through his hair, as he headed down the sidewalk. Connor felt self-conscious. He felt like everybody was staring at him. The clothes he wore, were not his usual style: blue jeans and a long sleeve sweater. No, he was dressed in tight black leather pants and a silk top. Somebody really had a sick sense of humor, leaving him in that apartment building with only one change of clothes and a bill to pay. It was probably Spike, he decided. He was still upset over Skittles using his clothes closet as a litter box.  
  
"Well, hello pretty. You're the vampire's little boy, aren't you?"   
  
Connor turned toward the voice and frowned. "Who wants to know?" A tall man stood against the building glaring down at him. He had a lip ring and a nasty twisted grin etched across his face. Connor knew this would probably be a fight or flight situation, and he was pretty tired. He didn't want to run, but he didn't want to scuffle either.   
  
"I'm Theo, darling. Don't you remember me?" Theo smiled, wickedly, and shook his head. "You brought me that lovely black man, as a gift. Remember?"  
  
Connor quirked a brow, but said nothing. It was obvious that the man was crazy.  
  
Theo grunted. It was obvious that the boy was a little crazy. "We had that deal, dear boy. You give me something and I give you something?" Theo leaned toward Connor and scowled. "The problem is... I have my part set in motion, as of last night and you... Well, let's just say your 'daddy' turned a nice Indian giver on me." Theo's voice turned gravelly and he grabbed Connor's arm. "I don't like being smacked around and then stolen from." Theo pulled Connor up against him and whispered harshly. "It's slightly embarrassing."  
  
Connor's eyes grew wide and he shook his head, in denial. "I don't know what you are talking about."  
  
Theo smirked and loosened his hold on Connor's shirt. "You really have no idea?"  
  
Connor shook his head. "I'm not even sure what day it is."  
  
Theo nodded and let go of his hold on the boy. "I see. You ask me to help you kill somebody and now you don't want it to happen, so you pretend it didn't? That's playing with fire, little boy." Theo leaned in and sighed. "I'm sorry to say that you're about to be burned. The blonde is going to get it, either way."  
  
Connor's face fell. "The blonde?"  
  
Theo nodded. "He was 'asking for it', I believe were your own words."   
  
Connor shook his head, once more, and grunted. "I don't know what is going on here, but I won't let it happen. You can't use me as the reason to kill somebody."  
  
Theo rolled his eyes. "I don't need a reason, little pretty. I was bored and you gave me an offer I couldn't refuse." Theo took the initiative and stepped in closer to the boy. "You couldn't stop it from happening, if you tried. It's probably already over and done with."  
  
Connor's scowl turned into a full-fledged sneer. "Truly? If that's the case, I no longer need you around." Connor took in the man's close proximity and took a step back, before backhanding him.   
  
The man's head was knocked to the side and blood started to drip from his mouth. Theo murmured a curse before being knocked off of his feet, by a near deadly blow. Connor had jumped on top of the man, straddling his legs and successfully pinning him to the ground. After accomplishing that he immediately gave into his rage. Theo was left gasping, after he received punch after agonizing punch to his bladder, stomach, and bowel area.   
  
Connor finally relented in his abuse and shakily stood up. 'Where did that come from?' He wondered idly. He wiped his hands on his pants and grimaced at his work. Theo was lying in a pool of his own vomit, knocked out by the pain. Connor thought about the last few minutes and took a good look at his surroundings.   
  
There was nobody nearby, save for the young prostitute only a few blocks down. Said prostitute either hadn't heard the commotion or wasn't intrigued by it. She just stood against a light post lazily, waiting for a pick-up. Connor shook his head and sighed. He still didn't know what day it was. That being in mind, he ran in the direction that he thought was 'home'.  
--------------------  
"It's all going to come to a boil. No one will make it out alive."   
  
Tim had been rocking back and forth on the couch, for over fifteen minutes, muttering about how the world was going to turn into chaos. It was starting to worry Angel a bit. "Tim, you need to take a breath. I'm not going to let anyone kill you."  
  
Tim looked up and shook his head. "It's inevitable. You'll turn on me, like the rest. Michael will grip your mind the same as he does others."  
  
Angel crossed his heart and smirked. "Not going to happen."  
  
"Dad!" Connor burst in through the front doors and gasped. "There's a man who is out to kill Spike."  
  
Angel threw a look over his shoulder and jumped up from his seat. "You are not welcome here." He snarled, as he lunged for his son.  
  
Connor was lifted off of his feet and he kicked out, connecting with and easily cracking one of his father's ribs. "God damn it, Angel! Put me down. I've had a rough night!"   
  
Angel lowered his son and sniffed him, before looking into his eyes and grinning like a fool. "Connor!" He pulled his son into a hug and winced. "I think you broke my rib."  
  
Connor chuckled and hugged back. "Sorry."  
  
Angel shook his head and sighed, happily. "It'll heal."  
  
"It can't be him!" Tim screeched. "He's tricking you again! You must fight it Angel or we will all die!"  
  
Connor looked past his father and sneered. "Who are you? You know what? I don't care. Pull yourself together or you can just get the hell out of here." Connor looked back at his dad. "Spike's in trouble. There is this guy named Theo after him. It's a bigger man, with some tattoos and an eyebrow ring."  
  
Angel nodded and sniffed. "We ran into him already this week. We were looking for you, actually."  
  
Connor chewed on his bottom lip and took a deep breath. "Where have I been?"  
  
Angel didn't know how much to tell his son. "You were possessed by an older being. A very strong spirit..."  
  
Tim was steaming over in the corner. "He's worse than that, you fools, and he's on the loose now, thanks to your majicks." Tim grabbed his forehead and howled in pain. "Damn it!"   
  
Angel walked over to the young man and yelled for his childe. "Spike! Get Lorne!"   
  
After a few moments, Spike and Lorne ran into the room. Spike was carrying a sword and Lorne had an empty martini glass, which was presumably full before he had started to run. Lorne looked around the room and then dived at the crouching boy's side. "What's wrong sweetie?"  
  
Tim groaned and shook his head. "It's all death and loneliness."   
  
Tim leaned into Lorne's chest and cried. At that moment, time seemed to stand still. No... Time did stand still. Lorne looked up and realized that everything had paused. Tim's tears were suspended on his cheeks, making the boy look like the statue of a broken angel. Spike was stuck in a crouching position next to him, Connor looked like a wrath filled demon child, and Angel... had a young man standing behind him with a stake pointed at his heart.  
  
"We need to talk, demon." The young man twisted his stake and smirked, wistfully. "I suppose I don't need to threaten you. You aren't a fighter." The man looked at the boy huddled against Lorne's chest and sniffed. "I hope you decide to listen to me."  
  
Lorne stroked Tim's hair, as he bit his bottom lip. Who was this man and how had he stopped time?  
  
The young man shook his head and sighed. "I didn't stop time, demon. It's just moving very slowly, in this room. Time is still rolling past us, outside." The young man pushed his blonde hair behind his ears and nodded at Tim. "Just so you know, he is evil. He doesn't have the power to steal your soul, but he can manipulate your mind and your heart, if you let him in."  
  
Lorne scrunched up his nose and shook his head. Tim wasn't evil. Was he? No. He was a very sweet boy with problems that they were trying to solve. He was a young man with a sister and a powerful gift. He...  
  
"He already has you under his spell." The man sighed and grunted. "I'm the one you want to kill, so that Tim may return to his sister."  
  
"You're Michael?" Lorne held the boy in his arms tighter and took a deep breath. "Why speak to me?"  
  
Michael shrugged and pointed at Spike and then at Angel. "They have already made up their minds. This boy is reassuring thoughts and feelings that they have had for centuries. Of course, they want to believe he is a good boy. Then, there is Connor..." Michael closed his eyes and turned his head toward the ceiling. "I should let that young man kill me with his bare hands, but the truth is... It wasn't completely my fault. I never wanted to possess him. I had to possess him."  
  
"You had to possess Connor? Why do you say that?"   
  
"I felt him getting closer. Tim was coming to claim me and I had to get away. I had to find someone who was strong enough to withstand my assault. It was a stroke of luck that I found Connor in that alley, fighting a demon. I took control of him and went to discuss some things with Theo." Michael took a step toward Connor and looked the boy over. "He seems to be whole, except..." Michael shook his head. "I fear he was dreadfully abused, when I inhabited him." Michael sighed. "Tim's power over me grows the closer he is." Michael grinned. "At least, it did. What have you done and why didn't he fight it?"  
  
Lorne looked down at the boy in his arms and thought it over. Tim had fought the severing of the link. He had said that it would bring an enraged spirit to their door. Instead it had brought a very quiet and reserved spirit to their door. Was it an act? Was Tim an act? Lorne's heart squeezed at that thought.   
  
"Believe what you will, demon. I didn't come here to destroy your predetermined expectancies. I didn't come to ruin your views or make you paranoid of the ones that you think you love." Michael sniffed the air and shook his head. "I don't trust you to believe me and you don't trust me enough to believe me." Michael narrowed his eyes at the demon and shrugged before morphing into Angel. "I've acquired new tricks and new knowledge. Tricks that should make me content to live out a diverse and fulfilling life. Knowledge that should sign Tim's death certificate."  
  
Lorne looked at the boy in his arms and looked at the man who wore the face of his leader. Michael was changing shape once more. He had turned into a very young girl with a kicked puppy dog expression.   
  
"Tim promised to come back to me, but I know that he won't." The little girl shook her head and smiled, sadly. "That's okay, though." The little girl grinned wickedly at this point. "I've already gained control of the family I'm with and I should be satisfied... for now."   
  
The 'for now' had sounded sinister enough to make Lorne shiver. "You are trying to manipulate me. Tim's little sister can't be like that."  
  
"I should know." Michael morphed into the body of a young man, barely older than Connor. He had brown hair and green eyes. He wasn't dazzlingly handsome, but he wasn't plain, by any means. "I was inside of her long enough to find out the essence of her true being. She's no normal child. She's growing more powerful than her brother could imagine."  
  
Lorne frowned and shook his head. "Could you stop changing forms? I'm starting to migraine."   
  
Michael nodded. "This is the first form that Tim saw me in. He always knew, though... Just as I knew that he was different. We wanted to use each other to get what we thought we deserved. He wanted to feel true power and I wanted to feel true... passion about something."   
  
"Who controls... controlled... who?" Lorne knew that whatever was being said was probably a lie, but what if it wasn't?  
  
"There was no control. I was a piece of him and he a piece of me and then it... mutated. The bad in him found the indifference in me and they blended." Michael took a few steps toward where Lorne stooped, holding Tim, and stopped. "May I? I promise not to harm him. I haven't the strength or ability to harm him." Michael looked around. "I'm stretching myself too thin, as it is."   
  
Lorne agreed that Michael could look at the boy a little closer. There wasn't really anything he could do to stop him, now was there?   
  
Michael stooped and looked at the boy's face, before running his fingertips over Tim's brow. "Do me a favor, Lorne. Don't move. Be very very still and take it all in like a sponge."  
  
Lorne felt his body still, but realized his mind was still alert. Was this how the others felt? No. He didn't know why he knew. He just did.  
  
Michael leaned forward and whispered in the boy's ear. "Wake unto me, my beauty, and I will present you with life everlasting."  
  
Tim's eyes fluttered, slowly, and he looked at the man who stood over him. "Holy fuck! You son of a bitch!"  
  
Michael took a step back, as a fist almost connected with his face. "Why so hostile, lover? We haven't had the chance to talk man to man since the separation; since I maintained complete control of myself."  
  
Tim jumped up from his place on the ground and looked around the room. "You paused time and space so that we could talk? What type of drama bitch thing was that to do? Why not just kill me?"  
  
Michael smirked and smoothed down his pants. They were starting to bunch at the crotch, in an irritating fashion. "I have my reasons." Michael shook his leg and sighed when it straightened out. "You were more powerful than I had anticipated. I won't underestimate you again."  
  
Tim sauntered up to Michael and grabbed a hold of his shirt, roughly. "Look here you bastardized version of a deity... The fact that you are here shows that you underestimate me fully."  
  
Michael looked down at the hand that grasped him and shuddered. He was feeling the tug. 'Want me? I need you. Love me, please.' It was silent but nevertheless it was there. "Not again, Tim." Michael smirked. "Besides, I can use you anytime I wish." Michael morphed into the perfect likeness of Tim, in turn throwing the other young man off kilter and causing him to lose his grip. "Didn't expect that did you? Didn't even dawn on you to ask how I had managed to get that other form back?"   
  
Tim shook his head. "You can... you can change forms?" Tim stumbled backward and tripped over Lorne's still form. "You had better leave, you lousy son of a whore. Next time I see you, I won't quit. I will own you, once more. Remember, my love, it is written in the stars."  
  
Michael chuckled and shook his head. "Kelsey will die first."   
  
Tim's eyes grew wide and he shook his head. "No. She can't die!"  
  
Michael shrugged. "You both will." Michael turned to walk out the door and stooped to snatch up the stake that he had discarded moments before. He turned and threw it into the shoulder of the blonde young man and smiled as he shrieked. "Maybe I have the strength and ability, after all. You are their problem from here on out, Timmy." Michael watched the boy grip the stake and howl, in pain. "Wake up demons and heroes. Your quest is more clear, but also a lot more bumpy. Enjoy." With that Michael turned and stalked out of the door.  
  
Lorne blinked twice and fell out of his painfully still pose. He looked around and realized the others were coming to, as well. Tim lay at his side moaning and crying, while gripping his shoulder and Michael... was presumably on his way to kill a small child.   
  
TBC  
  
-Sorry for the long long long long long long wait. I can and can't explain why it took so long. I have about 50 different reasons and 40 different excuses, and none of them can tell how sorry I am to leave this story hanging for so long. I've been moving houses, moving into a new job position, I lost my right to drive my car, I've been trying to convince my kinda' boyfriend that it's okay for us to care about each other like we do, and I've been writing a slash story on the side. Yep, I have... I love this story, as effed up as it is. It (the chapter) is confusing I know, but... sigh It makes sense to me and it should make sense to you, soon. I know this chapter left you saying... "who's the effin' bad guy, anyway?" Hmm... Dunno. Hehe.-  
  
--The subtitle for this chapter is the song 'Michael' by Franz Ferdinand. It was too perfect... I bet the guy read my fanfiction and said 'Hell yeah!' before writing his song. sings This is what I am. I am a man. So, come and dance with me Michael... hums--


	15. Real Men Cry

I don't own 'em, if I did I wouldn't share. I'm not Joss Whedon, all though I do a pretty mean impersonation. It's two o'clock in the morning, so I think we should get...  
  
On with the show.  
  
::Stuff and Nonsense- Real Men Cry::  
  
Gunn had been pampered and spoiled by the ladies... and Wes... all day long. He was starting to feel lazy and stiff. "Cordy, I need to... umm. What I mean to say is..."  
  
Cordelia dropped the magazine she was looking at and ran over to Gunn's side. She dropped onto her knees and took Gunn's hand in her own. "What can I get you, Gunn? Do you need a drink, something to eat?"  
  
Gunn pulled a face. "A bedpan?"  
  
Wesley stood from his place at the desk and sighed, before walking over to the couch. "I'll help Gunn to the restroom, Cordelia. You can go back to your light reading."  
  
Cordelia pushed herself up from her crouching position and brushed off her pants. "There are some deep interviews in that magazine." Cordelia grumbled on the way back to her seat. "Did you know that Mary Kate is on Cocaine?"  
  
Wesley bent down to help Gunn to his feet. "That's horrible. Did you go to school with her, or something?"  
  
Gunn chuckled and shook his head. "You've done it now, Brit-boy."  
  
Wesley narrowed his gaze at his darker companion and grimaced when he heard Cordelia's loud mocking laugh. "I suppose this Mary Kate is famous then?"  
  
Cordelia rolled her eyes and dropped her head backward. "Got it in one, Wes. My God how can you be so not conversant?"  
  
Gunn gave Wes a pleading look. "Conversant?"  
  
Wesley shook his head and smirked, before whispering to the injured man. "Word of the day toilet paper. Spike thought it was a good idea to put it in the hotel bathrooms." Wes walked Gunn to the bathroom and helped him inside. "Can you handle it from here or do you need further... assistance?"  
  
Gunn looked around the bathroom and bit his lip, a look of deep concentration etched across his face. "I think I can hold it, thanks."  
  
Wesley shook his head. "That's not a good idea, Gunn. It is very unhealthy to hold your bladder like that. You could injure your kidneys."  
  
Gunn laughed and grabbed at his aching side. "That's not what I was talking about holding, English."  
  
"Oh." Wesley lit up bright red and let go of the battered man slowly. "I see." After he was sure that Gunn could keep his balance, he stepped out of the bathroom. "Have at it, then." He said with a sigh, as he shut the door. "Always at my expense." Wesley muttered, as he leaned back against the closed door.  
  
Gunn let out a guttural moan, as his bladder emptied. He had been to tired to make this journey before, but it had gotten to the point where he was on the verge of embarrassing himself. "Good to see they didn't whip you." Gunn looked his equipment over and smiled. There were a few parts left unharmed, and for that he would thank God every day for the rest of his life.  
  
Wesley heard the happy noises from behind the bathroom door and shook his head. "Are you quite sure that you are all right in there?"  
  
Gunn sighed, gustily, and pulled up his pants. "I've never felt so physically relieved in all of my life."  
  
"You poor thing." Wesley mumbled, with a chuckle. "Should I come in, yet?" He said, raising his voice so that Gunn could hear.  
  
"I'm starting to think that you just want to see me with my pants down." Gunn opened the door and smiled at the flustered Englishman.  
  
Wesley shook his head and grunted, in an ungentlemanly way. "I assure you that as attractive as you may be to the ladies, you hold no appeal to me."  
  
Gunn let out a barking laugh and grabbed his ribs. "Stop making me laugh, English. You putting me through the ringer every time that you do."  
  
Wes offered his shoulder for the other man to lean on and sighed. "I'll try to be less endearing and revert back to my Sunnydale self, if only to save you from any further pain."  
  
Gunn laughed, until tears ran down his face. "I think those drugs you gave me are kicking in."  
  
Wesley smirked and shook his head. "And here I thought I was actually growing a sense of humor that others understood."  
  
Gunn slumped against the other man and cried into his shoulder. "I'll get you for this, Wesley."  
  
"Guys! Guys!" Fred came bounding down the hallway, holding the cordless phone out in front of her. "Conner's back! He's no longer possessed!"  
  
Wesley took the phone with his free hand and balanced it on his shoulder. "Hello, Angel?" Wesley nodded. "Yes, he's doing quite well. He's crying at the moment, but it's quite all right." Wesley smirked. "That's wonderful. Give Conner a hug for me." Wesley shook his head and chuckled. "No, you are quite right. I wouldn't hug him, for fear of death." Wesley scoffed and sighed. "He's just not cuddly, Angel. No, it is no fault of your own." Wesley paused. "What's that? Spike, who gave you the phone? Michael did what? Tim's the bad guy... but Michael is about to kill a child?" Wesley shook his head and grunted. "How in Hell's fire could that be the right course of action? Just let him? You are mad!"  
  
Gunn sighed and blinked. Where was he? Was Wesley holding him? Why was Fred looking at him like that? "Hey, baby. How you been, girl?"  
  
Fred chewed on her lip and looked in between the raging Englishman and the drugged thug. "I'm okay, Gunn. How are you feeling?"  
  
"Good enough to..." Gunn paused and shook his head, with a laugh. "I forgot what I was going to say."  
  
Fred shook her head and smiled, sweetly. "I think you should lay down."  
  
"Wanna' cuddle?" Gunn said with an infectious grin.  
  
Wesley dropped his phone when he saw the nervous look pass along Fred's face. He pulled it back up to his ear. "Yes, I understand. Talk to you later." Wesley clicked off the phone and handed it back to Fred. "I think that I'll walk Gunn back to the bedroom and let him rest."  
  
Fred nodded her head and shuffled back into the living room to sit with Cordelia.  
  
Gunn groaned and laid his head on Wesley's shoulder. "You sent her away."  
  
Wesley helped Gunn into Cordelia's bedroom and slowly settled him down onto the mattress. "You'll feel better about me doing that, tomorrow morning." Wesley said with a small smile. He pulled a cover up over his injured friend and tucked it around his shoulders. "Go to sleep, Gunn. I'll have Cordy watch you sleep, while I go find a way to help our friends help themselves. I can go look through the books and find a way to..."  
  
Gunn was already drifting off to sleep, as Wesley asserted his plans aloud.

-----------------------------------------------------

Kelsey was playing with a Barbie, when she stopped abruptly and sighed. "You shouldn't be here. Tim would be upset."  
  
"You aren't upset over my presence?" Michael watched the girl from the doorway and smirked. If possible, she almost looked smaller than she had the last time he had seen her.  
  
"No, I've grown two inches since then." Kelsey held up her Barbie and sighed. "She's so pretty. Don't you think?"  
  
Michael shrugged and sighed. "She's a little overdone for me. Too big of breasts, too blonde, too rich..."  
  
"Too girly?" Kelsey turned toward the man and smiled, sweetly. "You like boys, right?" She put on that inquisitive whine that made adults, in general, cringe in terror.  
  
Michael narrowed his gaze at the girl and smirked, evilly. He morphed into the shape of the mother figure that headed Kelsey's current family. "Kelsey, you know that I love only my husband and no other."  
  
Kelsey's jaw dropped. "You're the devil!" She exclaimed, with tears in her eyes. "I'm not ready to go yet!"  
  
Michael sighed and morphed into the shape of Conner, once more. "I think I'll kill you, like this." He took a few steps toward the girl and smiled. "Young, agile and crazed... I will get away with murder."  
  
Kelsey jumped up from her seat on the ground and hopped back a few steps. "I'll kill -you- first!" She insisted, clutching her doll to her chest.  
  
"That's right, Kelsey. Show me a bit of that power you've been hoarding." Michael's form shifted once more, until he was the exact image of Tim. "Show me, Kelsey."  
  
Kelsey bit her lip and shook her head. "You aren't Tim. Tim wouldn't hurt me!" Kelsey huddled against the wall and cried, silently. "What did you do to them?"  
  
Michael looked down at the deceptive form of the child. 'Don't forget that she is evil incarnate.' "They are fine. I morphed into the neighbor kid and invited them over. You mean they didn't invite you?"  
  
Kelsey thought it over. They had! Damn it! If she had accepted the offer, she wouldn't be in trouble now.  
  
Michael interrupted her thoughts. "I would have found another way to get you."  
  
Kelsey looked up, startled.  
  
Michael shook his head and smiled ruefully. "No, I can't read your mind. It was just that obvious, my little clairvoyant."  
  
"You will suffer, for this." Kelsey's grip on her Barbie slackened and a vacant look filled her eyes.  
  
Michael pounced forward and snatched the girl up into his arms, shaking her violently. "No, no, no! I can't allow that, love." Michael slapped the girl across the face, leaving a bright red handprint on the surface of her cheek. "Wake up, child. I want you to feel me take it from you!" Michael growled at the girl.  
  
The girl's eyes lit up with recognition. "Timmy?" Kelsey threw her arms around Michael's neck and cried into his shoulder. "It was horrible, Timmy!"  
  
Michael held the girl to his chest and stroked her back, soothingly. "It couldn't have been as bad as all that, Kelse." Michael rocked the girl and shook his head with a silent curse. He couldn't kill an innocent child, without good reason. He would have to wait until the demon stopped hiding. Then, he could kill her.

--------------------------------------------------------

Tim was spitting curses behind the makeshift ball gag. "Nnmnmhh...!"  
  
Lorne pet the boy's hair and sighed. "I know, darling, but we don't know who to trust. We'll let you free if everything checks out okay." Lorne took a lock of hair in between his fingers and played with it. "Doyle is running a spiritual background check on your family. Hopefully the oracles will be not so vague this time." Lorne's grip tightened in Tim's hair and he yanked his head up, looking him straight in the eyes. "Now, if I find out that you were coming to my town to hurt someone I love... I will take the time to castrate you with my teeth." Lorne let go of the young man's head and he noticed him shiver. "You need a blanket?"  
  
"Nnnhmmhm!" Tim thrashed against his bonds and howled, tears running down his face.  
  
Angel sighed and looked in the rearview mirror. "Can't you knock him out or something?"  
  
Spike leaned back toward Lorne and smiled in a way that could only be described as wicked. "I can make him be quiet."  
  
"You aren't draining him, Spike." Angel growled from the driver's seat.  
  
"Hey, now!" Spike reprimanded his sire. "You don't let me be a backseat driver, so don't you be a backseat vampire. You rolling stop those stop signs and I'll bite whomever I please."  
  
"I should have aborted you, as soon as I saw Dru leaning over you inthat alleyway." Angel muttered under his breath.  
  
Spike chuckled and leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes. "Ahh... but see, you didn't. The moment she offered you a taste, you gave in." Spike turned a look back at Lorne and grinned, impishly. "I'm sweet, you see."  
  
Lorne nodded and smirked. "I'm sure you are, Spike."  
  
"He's spicy too. Tastes like damn limes and ginger." Angel grumbled as he passed a look over at his childe, who gaped at him. "What?"  
  
Spike was, not so silently, seething. "You described me like some sort of entrée. Try some of our lovely 'Gingered Spike' and don't forget the lime!" Spike scoffed and shook his head. "Ya' ponce. I haven't eaten ginger since China, you stupid pillock and we both know you didn't drink from me then! You were all soul having and guilty, by that time!"  
  
Angel sniffed and shrugged a shoulder. "I stand by my statement."  
  
"Fucktard."  
  
"Immature brat."  
  
"Pouf!"  
  
"Mnnmhmnhh...!" Tim squealed from behind his gag.  
  
Lorne leaned his head back and closed his eyes. It was going to be a long drive to Santa Barbara.  
  
TBC  
  
Please don't hate me for not updating in a month. This story is coming out differently than anticipated, especially since I just want to write slash right now. I may have to break down and write an Angel slash, but only Zeus knows if I'll be able to post here. sigh Please review even if it sucks and I don't deserve it.  
  
-subtitle is 'Real Men Cry' which is a song by Avocado Club.- 


	16. Once Upon a Dream

Don't own it or them. If I did I'd be too busy playing with them to write. Sorry it took so long to update. Lets just get...

On with the show.

::Stuff and Nonsense- Once Upon a Dream::

Lorne stopped the vampires from dashing into the building once again, by holding up his finger and hissing. "They're what? That's horrible."

Spike was getting anxious. The sun had just gone down and he wanted to get inside, kill the shape shifting spirit thing, and save the kid. "What is the hold up, you silly demon? Get off the bloody phone."

Lorne was nodding and making surprised gasping sounds, when all of the sudden he hung up and smacked Tim in the back of the head, causing the hostage to scream his lament. "Your family incubates demon spawn in the bodies of small girls?!" Lorne smacked the boy again and growled. "You son of a bitch! What have you got to say for yourself?" Lorne ripped the gag off of Tim's mouth and pulled him up out of the car.

Tim's face was tight and pale. "She's still my sister. I couldn't help what they did to her, because I was too young to know the secret. By the time I found out, it was too late."

Tears were starting to spill from the boy's eyes, but Lorne didn't show any sign of sympathy. "So, you did what?"

"I searched out a spirit that was strong enough to take out my... father. He was a powerful mage and my powers were hardly developed." Tim looked down at the ground, when he met eyes with Angel.

Angel wasn't sure what he was hearing, but he wanted to know what he was up against before he entered the house. "Who... or what did you find? What happened?"

Tim gulped and shook his head. "I found 'Michael'. I knew that he had possessed a boy in a nearby school. I had heard snippets of his thoughts and I felt his power. I put myself in the right place at the right time to meet him. I offered him everything he wanted... mostly friendship. I made him like me, love me, and then I used him. When our auras mingled..." Tim sighed and coughed. It was getting harder to speak. It was as if something was preventing him from being able to take in enough oxygen to tell his story.

Lorne squeezed the boy's shoulder and told him to continue. "It's anxiety. Get past it and go on."

Tim nodded. "When our auras mingled I had as much control over him as he could have over me. We were always together and... I decided not to 'control' him physically. I simply asked him to kill my dad."

Angel nodded and crossed his arms across his chest. "Did he?"

Tim nodded, slowly. "He murdered him brutally and then he left the body of that kid at the scene of the crime. The kid went to an asylum and 'Michael' jumped into Kelsey, with the pretense of trying to kill the demon inside."

Angel sniffed the air and looked around. It was unusually still. "Did he kill it?"

Tim shook his head. "He said that he couldn't. I called him some names, telling him how weak he was and he got slightly miffed, to say the least. Then he pretended to leave the body, telling me that he would find a better shell and come back to me so that we could finish our argument and get back to our life. He stayed inside of Kelsey for a month and when he finally told me about it, I blew up. I used the power I had over him and... I hurt him." Tim sighed. "I felt like he had violated my trust and he still insists that he loves me. Severing the connection between us was the worst thing I could do. Now, I can't stop him from killing Kelsey and you are all to blame."

Spike's usually hollow cheeks were even tighter as he bit the insides of his mouth. Up to this point he hadn't said anything, but he felt it was his turn to speak. He stalked up to the boy and grabbed him by the front of the shirt, pulling him away from Lorne's hold. "I think you should have just been a better boyfriend and not manipulated the bloke. He was an 'all-powerful' spirit for how long? You shouldn't have pissed him off. Don't tell 'im how weak he is after he offs your old man for you. Tell 'im he tried and you can figure it out together, right?"

Tim saw the way Spike's eyes shined in the dark and he gulped.

"Hmm... 'ow much do you suppose he really loves you, as of right now? Enough to sense you are in trouble? Would he save you from a vampire who had you at 'is mercy? 'ow loud would I have to make you scream before he came runnin' outta' that house, guns a' blazin'?"

Tim's eyes grew as wide as saucers and he shook his head. "No..." He whimpered.

"Start screamin' pet or I'll make it a whole lot worse." Spike morphed into his demonic form and bent down, licking the hollow of Tim's neck. He silently called the blood, as he sucked on the skin and waved his sire and Lorne away.

Angel knew what Spike was up to and even though he didn't like it he went along with the unspoken plan and pulled Lorne toward the house.

Lorne was worriedly looking over his shoulder, when Angel pulled him out of his thoughts.

"He's using Tim as bait. He's bringing Michael to him, so we can go get the child." Angel pulled Lorne back into the shadows of the house, when he heard a scream of pure fear and smelled blood. Angel looked at his childe and gasped, silently. Spike no longer resembled his childe William, or his souled counterpart; he looked like any demon that you would find in a graveyard... ready to be slain and reveling in his evil.

Lorne shivered and looked up at Angel. "He terrifying, Angel."

Angel nodded and whispered back. "That's why I made him. I knew he would be perfect, if he was unleashed."

They stood in communicable silence for a moment, when a sonic boom of emotion was projected at them. Lorne crouched down and grabbed at his gut, gasping in his pain. "I think Michael knows that Tim is in trouble." He gasped, once more and convulsed.

Angel nodded and gripped his stomach, as well. He was bent in half by the pain, but he had to fight it and go save the kid. "Stay here and make sure that Spike doesn't get hurt... if you can." Angel ran around to the back door and broke in, quite easily. It wasn't locked.

Lorne looked up from the ground and saw the form of a child walking toward Spike and Tim.

Spike looked up from Tim's limp form and spotted the little girl. Tim hadn't been drained, by any means, he had just passed out from the fear of being fed on. Spike had only taken one good swallow when he stopped feeding. "Hello, little one."

"You're hurting my Tim." The little girl frowned and shook her head, her eyes glowing in the darkness.

"I didn't mean anything personal. I was hungry." Spike smirked, cheekily.

The girl growled and shook her head, more adamantly. "You aren't a random demon, vampire. I've seen you before."

"Have you, now?" Spike decided to keep the conversation up as long as he could, because that meant less fighting between him and the shape shifter. "Where have you seen me?"

"I saw you like Sleeping Beauty." The little girl stated cryptically. "I know you. I walked with you once upon a dream..." She started to sing, quietly, and smiled.

Spike barely heard the little girl, but he recognized the song. Drusilla used to sing it back when she went through her Disney stage. "I know you. The gleam in your eyes is so familiar a gleam..." He sang back to the child.

"You have a pretty voice." The child stated, with a sigh. "It won't stop me from killing you, though. You hurt Tim."

Spike looked at the boy in his arms and at the insane child-like form. "He's not dead. He's just scared." Spike laid the boy down at the girl's feet and stepped back. He made it look like a peace offering, but it was really freeing up his hands in case of a fight.

"We aren't going to fight. You're too big. I'm going to kill you with my mind." The girl's eyes glowed brighter. "Tim takes care of me and I take care of him. It's how it has always been and how it will always be."

"Look, you are off your rocker. Tim was an asshole to you and you still feel like taking up for him? You have been treated unfairly. You were left alone with your love and he didn't want you near. He told us himself."

The girl looked down at Tim's form and shook her head. "He wouldn't say that! He wouldn't!" The girl's voice deepened and grew sinister. "He loves me and I love him! That's how it has always been and that's how it will always be!"

Spike looked past the child and saw that Lorne had passed out, beside the house.

"Don't worry about him." The child growled. "He'll die later, when I'm through with you. Then, I'll kill the dark vampire who is trying to save Michael."

Spike's eyes widened. "What was that?" He asked, a little more than confused.

"Michael!" The child howled like an animal. "That pretentious little shit that I attacked earlier. He's weak enough for me to kill now, but I want to take my time with him. He should suffer for his crimes against Tim and myself." The child pushed up her frilly sleeves and stared at Spike. "I despise your kind, vampire. You have to jump from human to human to live, instead of living off of one until you are strong enough to live on your own. You show weakness every time you pick a different human to drain."

Spike took a step back and looked over the child once more. He tried to clear his mind, as he saw his sire stalking up behind the girl. It was impossible, so he decided to think of something that could override his thoughts. He remembered the way he felt about Drusilla the moment he saw her child-like eyes and her long, beautiful hair. He thought about the way that Angel held him to his chest, his first night as a fledgling. He remembered Buffy and the way she chewed her lip and turned her ring on her finger, when she was nervous. He remembered the times his mother had hugged him and told him how much she loved him and his stupid poetry.

"What's wrong vampire? Afraid that in your last moment, you won't have enough time for your long life to pass before your eyes?" Kelsey took a breath and focused on Spike's unbeating heart. "You seem a little cold, love. Let's see if I can warm you up."

Spike gripped his chest and howled in pain. He felt like he literally had a case of heartburn, when it suddenly stopped. Spike looked up, with tears in his eyes, and smiled. "It's 'bout time."

Angel smiled at his childe, as he held the girl up by the back of her neck. "I know what you are, Schneilnofg demon. If I say your name, you die."

"There are hundreds of us. You will never be able to guess who I am." The demon growled. "Plus, you don't wield enough power!"

Angel chuckled and shook his head. "I got a call from a friend, while I was inside. He has connections and he told me what your name is and... you have no idea how much power I have on my side. Expel yourself from the child or I'll say it."

"No!" Tim shook and spluttered, spitting up blood. "It'll kill her! Nliegnog... Nliegnog!"

Kelsey thrashed and howled, shaking herself from Angel's grasp. "You traitor! You traitor! I'll kill you!"

Tim screamed and cried, while grabbing his chest and shaking. "It hurts... Oh, Christ, it hurts!"

"Stop!" The voice reached across the yard and stopped the movement of all who occupied it. "Let him go, Nliegnog!"

Kelsey turned toward the voice and shook her head. Michael stood their staring at her, impassively. "You can't... You..." Her voice was small and she seemed to become frailer, by the second. "How could you... be alive?" Kelsey fell to her knees and fell forward, until she lay on her stomach on the sodden ground.

Michael looked at Tim and sighed. "I loved you and you treated me like... a human." He said it with derision. "I've saved your sister, or what's left of her, and you look at me like I'm a monster." Michael shook his head and looked toward Angel. "He's a bad man and he shouldn't be allowed to take care of children. That family in there is made of good, decent people." Michael bent down and picked up the child, laying her head against his chest and hugging her tightly. "I'm sorry for hurting you, little one." He whispered in her ear.

Angel looked over at his childe, assessing the damage. When he was sure that he was unharmed he focused on Tim and then on Kelsey and Michael. "What are you planning?"

Michael hugged the little girl and shrugged. "I'm going to go put her to bed and... maybe I'll see you guys around?"

Angel nodded. "I'm not sure how I feel about you, but you are welcome to come by Angel Investigations if you ever feel... hopeless."

Michael smiled and looked between Angel and Spike. "I'll remember that. Don't forget to get your green demon, before you go. He's a good one to have around."

Spike took in a deep breath and looked down at the man laying at his feet. "What do we do about him?"

Michael shrugged and looked at Tim, sadly. "I don't want him dead, but I don't want him near me either. I'm not taking care of him and as far as the government is concerned he's a good citizen. Do what you will with him. I just want to start over somewhere... maybe find someone. Perhaps, I'll just be alone and travel for a while. Maybe I'll revisit Ireland and the old stomping grounds."

Angel smiled and nodded. "You should."

Michael turned and carried the little girl back in the house.

Angel looked at his childe and smirked. "How are you feeling?"

"Like someone wrapped a hot piece of metal around my heart." Spike rubbed his chest and groaned. "How about you?"

Angel nodded, with a smile. "I'm good."

Spike rolled his eyes and sighed. "Let's just go home, please."

Angel helped his childe over to the car and into the seat. "As long as you're being all polite, I don't see how I could say no."

"If you did I'd break your balls off and feed 'em to Tim." Spike growled, half-heartedly.

Angel grinned, because he knew Spike was all right. "I'll get Lorne. You figure out what we'll do with Tim."

Spike plotted, as his sire hurriedly made his way to aid their friend.

TBC

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